


You Can Still Be What You Want To

by rayofsunshinc



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Dark Humor, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Fix-It, Gay Disaster Richie Tozier, Hallmark Movie Material, Inappropriate Humor, Injury Recovery, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Patty and Audra become honorary members of The Losers Club, Slow Burn, Stanley Uris Knows All, Stanley Uris Lives, The Losers Club have The Shine, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 99,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayofsunshinc/pseuds/rayofsunshinc
Summary: And then, Richie did say something dangerously tempting.“My parents have a lake house in Vermont. We can stay there.”Staying with Richie. Living with Richie in some beautiful lake house in Vermont while he recovered. It wasn’t like he had that many options. It would really help him get his shit together if he had somewhere to stay.OrEddie Kaspbrak realizes that people aren’t given second chances very often and decides it’s time to live his life for himself. Richie Tozier decides it’s time to stop hiding parts of himself from the people he loves now that they’re back in his life. They're going to work through their trauma together in a completely non platonic way.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 88
Kudos: 224





	1. What Went Down After The Sewers

**Author's Note:**

> Do we need another Reddie fix it fic? Of course we do. It and It Chapter 2 movie based with some inspiration and references from the novel.
> 
> Here are some warnings and possible triggers: hospital stays, homophobia, bigoted thoughts about sexual orientation, references to backward thinking about HIV/AIDS crisis, past child abuse, past drug abuse, talk about suicide attempts, and discussion of death in general. If anything in the warnings or that I think of later is heavily present in a chapter, I’ll try to give a warning again beforehand.

_You're burning yearning for some  
_ _Somebody to tell you  
_ _That life ain't passing you by_

_\- Kenny Loggins_

_You can sink to the bottom of the sea  
_ _Just don't go without me_

_\- The Civil Wars_

* * *

The things that happened inside of It’s lair and everything else up to this point was all a blur. Richie wasn’t able to focus on the voices around him. His eyes fell to his blood-covered hands. He remembered that Ben had yelled at him. The yell was one of the only times he had ever really heard Ben raise his voice, aside from the roar-like sound that had left him when Henry Bowers talked badly about Beverly before the Apocalyptic Rock Fight. Ben’s yell tonight was stern and fixed, telling Richie to put pressure on the wound. Richie had done what he was told. He had removed a layer, held it to the fast-bleeding wound that could only be described as fucking _huge._ He held the fabric there until his shirt was completely soaked. He heard Stan say not to take the pressure off even when the blood soaked through. Richie had felt like all of their voices were jumbled together, that there was just a loud white noise trying to block it all out.

“ _Richie_.”

He was broken out of trying to piece together everything that had happened that night. Everyone around him seemed to be going extremely fast while he was going in slow motion. His heart was pounding in his ears, drowning them out. He barely knew how he’d gotten to the hospital, but he was standing in the crisp, white hall. There was a stark contrast between the Derry Home Hospital and what was underneath it.

“Richie, what’s your blood type?”

“O negative.” A clipboard was shoved into his hands. He was staring down at it and heard something about a blood transfusion. He realized he’d hit the blood type jackpot, but he was looking down at the form, at the address and the phone number line. He was shaking too badly to fill the paperwork out.

Beverly quickly took the clipboard out of Richie’s hands. She started scribbling, even though there was no way she knew his answers. “Richie, hey - ” Beverly was pushing the clipboard back into his hands. “You need to sign.”

Richie glanced down at the paper, all filled with information that wasn’t his. He could only guess it was Beverly’s. His hands were still shaking badly. He managed to sign it though, quickly, considering how bad he was shaking.

“Sir, are you sure you’re well enough to give blood?” The nurse asked as she took the clipboard from him. Her brows were fixed together in worry, but she was steady and her words were firm and quick. Her tone reminded Richie how grave the situation really was. He had to get his shit together for this.

“Yes.” Richie replied quickly.

The nurse said she was going to ask him a few more questions, which Richie wanted to argue that they didn’t have time for, but arguing was only going to hold them up even more. She was leading him into a room as she spoke, clipboard in hand and moving quickly. “Have you come into contact with someone else’s blood?” She asked. Richie looked down at his blood-covered hands and clothes. She glanced back at him. “Aside from the patient’s blood?”

Richie thought quickly of Henry Bowers and he couldn’t remember getting blood on him. _Holy shit, he’d killed a guy. T_ here was no time for panicking. He had to focus, get his blood taken, and then there would be time to freak the fuck out.

“No.”

The nurse asked him a few other questions, and Richie was becoming annoyed and worried. It was evident in his tone too, but the nurse was being patient with him and going quickly.

“Have you had sexual contact with another man in the last year?”

Richie felt his heart rate increase and it was hard to swallow. He felt like he was personally being attacked. He knew in the back of his mind that gay men once weren’t allowed to give blood at all because of the AIDs epidemic. _You guys know that there's an AIDS epidemic out there right now, as we speak, right?_

“ _No_ \- I don’t have time to answer questions.” Richie's voice was heated. “Don’t you get how important this is?”

The nurse looked up from the clipboard. “Mr. Tozier, I’m well aware of how important this is. Your friend’s wound should have been fatal. If he doesn’t get another blood transfusion, he _will_ die. We’re doing everything in our power to make sure that he’s stable before we get him airlifted to Bangor. Can you _quickly_ answer my questions and sit down?”

Richie nodded, mouth shut tight and lips in a thin line as he took a seat.

It's less than a minute before he's got a needle stuck in his arm.

“How pissed off is Eddie going to be when he finds out that our blood is in his body?” Richie asked. It’s meant as a joke, but he doesn’t smile.

“Well, this is the same Eddie that once cut his hand open with a piece of dirty glass bottle and held hands with us.” Ben pointed out. “I think he’ll be happy that we helped him.”

Richie was glad that Ben was in the room with him, because Ben was a calm presence. He had always been. Even earlier, when Ben yelled at Richie, it was calm and more like your father giving you a talking to because he caught you doing something that you shouldn’t have been, only yelling at you because you could’ve been _hurt_ , not just because you weren’t supposed to do it. Richie’s hand was balled up in a tight fist as the memories of what had happened flooded into his brain. Eddie had saved him, then he'd been run completely through by one of those awful limbs that It had grown. There was so much goddamn blood.

“Mr. Tozier, you need to relax.” The nurse told him.

How could Richie possibly relax? Eddie was dying and there was nothing else he could possibly do except wait for his blood to fill one of those bags so they could give it to him. What a weird concept. Richie was still sure that Eddie was going to be freaked out by the fact that he was getting someone else’s blood, even if he’d be grateful too. 

.

It’s barely been fifteen minutes since he stepped through the doors of the hospital and so much had already happened. Richie felt helpless watching through the glass as Eddie was operated on. All that he could think was that Eddie looked so _small_ . Richie had just reminded him that he was braver than he thought, but seeing him like that was horrible. Eddie _was_ brave though. He was tough, resilient. He could pull through. He would.

“He’s flatlining.” Richie could hear them through the glass, hear inside of the room. Richie stepped closer, eyes darting around the room, watching as the doctors grabbed the AED pads.

“Let’s try it.”

“One, two, three. Clear.” 

Richie’s watching through glassy eyes and bloodstained glasses as they press the AED pads on Eddie’s chest. His body jumped on the table. 

“Save him! Save him!” Richie’s hands pounded on the glass between him and the surgery table.

“No response.”

“Again. One, two, three. Clear.”

Richie’s hands curl on the cold glass, nails digging into his own palms as he pounded against the glass again. 

“Get him off the glass!” A voice says from beside him. The nurse that took his blood.

“Richie.” Stan’s firm voice grabs his attention, but the pull of Mike’s arms around him was only enough to get him away from the glass.

“No response.”

“It’s useless.”

“It’s not useless. One more time.”

Richie was trying to break away from his friends, to do _what_ he didn’t even know, but he could feel an arm tight around his midsection. Bill’s got a hold on one of his hands, squeezing and telling him that he’s not helping over his heartbeat pounding in his ears and the sounds inside the surgery room. 

“One, two, three. Clear.”

The heart monitor started back up. Richie sank down to the floor, he’s unable to stop the sobbing. Shoulders are shaking. He squeezed Bill’s hand so tightly, his knuckles are turning white. His other hand came up to cover his face. Beverly threw her arms around Richie. Bill, Ben, Mike and Stan joined her.

.

“I’m sorry, but you’re not going into the Intensive Care Unit unless you’re also in need of urgent care.” It was the same nurse that had asked Richie all the questions that told them that. Richie kind of liked her even though she was _really_ making his life hard at the moment. He figured that he looked and sounded crazy, so he couldn’t blame her for trying to get rid of him. She was just trying to take care of Eddie.

“I need him to know that I’m here.” Richie wasn’t sure that his brain had fully comprehended everything that happened. If he had properly processed everything, he would fully be freaking out, right? It was dead. They killed It. Eddie had also died, but Eddie came back to life. Richie had seen that happen, maybe even heard it. His brain was having trouble keeping track of what had happened and what he had seen in the deadlights. 

“Mr. Kaspbrak is unconscious.” She said, very plainly and calmly. 

Richie was irritated with that response, but he didn’t say anything. 

The nurse looked at The Losers, who were all still standing around and hoping to get confirmation that their seventh member was going to be okay. 

Richie's eyes followed her gaze to look at them too. There was blood caked in Beverly’s hair and her shirt that had once been white was stained red. Ben’s clothes were dark with dirt strains and his hands were bloodstained. Stan’s typically neat and tucked clothes were hanging off him, dirty and ripped, and his bandages were practically black with grime and blood. Mike had holes in his clothes, was covered in blood and grime, and his hands were blood-strained. Bill’s clothes were in the same state and his shoes were tracking blood and dirt through the halls. 

“Quite frankly, you all look and smell horrible. I think you need to go home, take a shower and get some sleep.” Brows furrowed and she shook her head. “I’m not sure what you all were doing in that abandoned house, but unless you’d like to start explaining it, I think you need to go. You can meet Mr. Kaspbrak at the hospital in Bangor when it opens for visiting hours tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!?” Richie exclaimed.

The nurse ignored him. “If you're injured, you need to head to the ER and we’ll take care of you. Otherwise, you all should go for now.”

The six of them exchanged looks. They all remembered Mike’s injury from the library. Richie looked at Stan’s arms again, swallowing hard.

Mike put a hand on Stan’s shoulder, squeezing tight. “We’re staying.” Mike said.

“Call if you need us?” Bev said.

Bill, Ben and Beverly were turning toward the door waving at Mike and Stan, but Richie was just standing there. “Richie, come on.” Bill said and put one hand on his shoulder.

“But Eddie - Eddie’s going to be all alone and - I just - ” Richie’s eyes stung with tears and his voice was thick with them too.

He caught a glimpse of the nurse. Her expression had changed. She looked sympathetic, but wasn’t saying anything about changing her mind.

Richie swallowed hard. He let Bill steer him away, but not without breaking into a sob.

.

When tomorrow came, Richie was not in Bangor where he wanted to be. He was stuck in Derry. Richie was with Mike at the police station. Richie was already anxious because he wanted to be with Eddie, or at least find out how he was doing. Then there was the fact that he had actually killed someone and his whereabouts after that couldn’t really be accounted for. 

Richie felt like he was going to puke.

When Richie left Mike in the hallway, Mike had his hands folded in his lap, poised and collected, except for one heel that was tapping against the tile.

After five minutes inside the sheriff's office, Richie was slumped back in his chair with narrowed eyes, arms folded over his chest and face hot. The nauseous, anxious feeling had faded some, because he was angry. Sure, Richie was pissed off at Mike because it was Mike’s fault that Eddie was in the hospital in a coma (okay, so that wasn’t fair and he knew that he shouldn’t be pissed - Eddie had decided to come back all on his own, just like they all had, and he was just using Mike to project his anger on to over the cruelty of the universe). Despite being pissed or projecting or whatever he was doing, Richie was still going to do whatever he could to protect Mike. Richie was doing everything in his power to keep his fucking cool. He was calling on God, Allah, Buddha, and Satan to help him, because the sheriff was very interested in Mike. He seemed to be trying incredibly hard to blame Mike for what happened to Henry Bowers. Richie felt like peeling out of the parking lot after this shitshow and blaring NWA.

At first, the sheriff didn’t seem to believe that it was a possibility that Richie had been the one to kill Bowers at all. Then he _finally_ must have decided that no one would confess to murder on purpose if they hadn’t done it.

“Can you go over it one more time? What was Mike Hanlon _doing_ when Henry Bowers was attacking him?”

Richie took in a deep, deep breath. “Mike was laying on the floor trying to fight off a crazy asshole who was holding a knife.” 

“Can you try to refrain from calling the deceased mental patient that?” The sheriff said, scribbling on his notes.

"I'll try." Richie said through gritted teeth.

“So what did you do?”

“I picked up the first thing I saw and I — I hit him in the back of the head.” Richie explained again. He was starting to feel nauseous again as he remembered it. The splitting skull, the clunking sound. He felt a sick wave of sweat forming on his forehead.

The sheriff looked up at Richie again. “And you didn’t think to look for something else?”

“I was panicked. The same guy who used to bully and torture us as children was hovering over Mike with a knife.”

“How did you know that it was Henry Bowers?”

“I - I just knew.”

“You just knew? And you’re going to stick with that?”

“Yes.” Richie was really fighting off barfing.

"Mr. Tozier, are you okay? You look green." The sherif was handing over the garbage can.

Richie took it, but sat it aside. "I'm fine."

“How do we know that Mr. Hanlon didn’t entice Henry Bowers?”

Richie sat up in his seat, swallowing back the sick feeling because rage burned it away. “Because Bowers wasn’t … _ever_ in his right mind. This is the same man who killed the sheriff in 1989. His own _father_. I don’t think he needed a motive.”

For the most part, the sheriff must have felt like Richie had some fair points. Especially being reminded that Henry’s actions had once affected that very police force. Mike and Richie were released on bail. Neither of them could leave the state of Maine until the trial.

“Trapped again.” Richie said, leaning back in the seat of the rental car.

“Tell me about it.” Mike said.

“I can’t believe those pricks. What the _fuck_ was that?” Richie asked, looking over at Mike.

“Been dealing with it my whole life.” Mike said.

“And yet, you’re still so … _Mike_.”

Mike shrugged his shoulders, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smile.

Richie shook his head. “I’m still pissed that you brought us back to Derry, but I am sorry you have to deal with that shit ... and I missed you.” 

“Missed you guys too. It was fun stalking you all though. Especially you.” Mike said.

“What a creep.” Richie laughed. His mind was racing. “ _Fuck_ , I need to call my manager.” He opened the car door and puked on the pavement. He sat back upright, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Mike said. "Why don't you come in at my place and have a drink?"

"Can't. Gotta see Eddie."

.

“They tried to blame Mike for everything. Even though Bowers was a literal escaped psychopath and Mike was injured. They finally believed me after drilling me about the details like I would _want_ to be the person blamed for murder if I didn’t do it. Anyway, I can’t really talk about it since I have to go to trial.”

Richie was talking, but Eddie wasn’t responding. Richie wasn’t even sure if Eddie could hear him. He had no idea if people who were unconscious could actually hear what you were saying.

“I had to call my manager. Boy, is he fucking pissed off at me. Nothing new though. He’s been happier since I stopped doing drugs, but I think killing a man _might_ be the final straw. Especially considering that _really_ means my tour has to be cancelled. I can’t leave the state. Honestly, it’s kind of a fucking relief. I mean, being stuck in Maine isn’t, but not having to do the tour.”

Richie looked up from the floor where he was pacing. At the door, one of Eddie’s nurses was standing and giving a look that said she was deeply disturbed by what she had just heard. Richie couldn’t say that he blamed her. He sat down, moving out of her way so she could look Eddie over or whatever she was doing. He hadn’t figured out what they were actually able to do, except check Eddie’s vitals. They also wouldn’t tell him anything.

“Thanks.” Richie said when the nurse turned to leave again. She half-smiled at him even though she probably thought that he was crazy and Richie half-smiled back even though he had no idea what she was even doing to help.

Richie didn’t speak for a long time, he just listened to the sound of Eddie’s heart monitor. He tried to keep talking because the more that he spoke, the less he had time to actually think. He didn’t want to dwell on the court case. He didn’t want to dwell on Eddie's condition. He didn't want to cry like Eddie was actually dead. Eddie was going to wake up. He had to. Richie didn’t know what he would do if Eddie didn’t. His heart sank deep into a pit in his chest when he thought about it.

.

It's two days later when Richie is rearranging himself in the same chair, still talking. “Music brings people out of comas. Isn’t that a thing? I bet if I played a good REO Speedwagon ballad you’d wake right up.” He was standing up, pacing around the room and wondering what music would get Eddie to wake up. “REO Speedwagon, Journey, Tom Petty, Hall & Oats, fucking Styx. I know that shit would wake you up. Oooh what about a good Whitney Houston song?” Richie said, grinning like Eddie could hear him. 

“Wait - oh my god, you _really_ liked Footloose. When it would come on the radio, I could _sometimes_ convince you to do that one little foot move from the movie.” Richie was grinning wider thinking about eleven or twelve year old Eddie _dancing_ . He remembered gathering around the TV to watch Footloose when Richie got it on tape. The only reason he had bought it (with his allowance and everything!) was because Eddie liked the movie so much. Eddie would mimic the dance moves at the end, and Richie would laugh fondly. Because even to Richie then, it had been _too cute_ and he loved seeing Eddie smile.

_“Don’t laugh! You asked me to do it.” Eddie would exclaim, all red faced._

_“I’m not making fun!” Richie insisted and no one believed him._

_“Richie’s j-j-just j-j-jealous that he’s not coordinated.” Bill said._

_“I’m not coordinated? Fuck you.” Richie said, exasperated._

_Richie’s mom heard them from the kitchen, and would disapprovingly call, “Richie!”_

_“Sorry mom.” Richie would say back. He would look at Eddie, who was no longer trying to mimic any of the dance moves. Though he was looking intently at the TV. “How do you do that anyways, Eds?”_

_“The one with the feet? It’s easy.” And Eddie would demonstrate again._

_Richie remembered standing up with him and Bill, all three of them trying to dance and laughing. He remembered looking over at the couch and saying, “What’s the matter, Stan? Jews can’t dance?”_

_And his mother would yell at him again. During Richie’s apology to his mom, Stan would mouth ‘fuck you’ from the couch and they all laughed._

Richie was caught up in the memory as he stepped closer to Eddie’s bed. His face fell when he looked at Eddie again. He was breathing, heart beating, but asleep. He was hooked up to IV’s and tubes. Out cold. This made day two that he had been out. Richie reached out to touch his cheek, gently. “Fucking hell, Eddie.” Richie murmured, face scrunching up a little, but he didn’t let himself cry. He leaned down to press a kiss against Eddie’s forehead.

Richie swallowed hard before he started talking again. “Music hasn’t been _really_ good in the last ten years. I don’t know, it’s just one of those things, like I wonder if Kurt Cobain was alive, would people even like Nirvana? Rest in peace and all that shit, but it’s true. I mean, Nirvana isn’t _bad_ , but is it really any better than Pearl Jam or Alice in Chains? No. Grunge music wasn’t even that good. It faded out quickly for a reason. I did wear a lot of flannel in college though. -- Jesus, it just hit me that I totally rocked the Bill Denbrough look in college. I was wearing flannel and cut off jeans. Fuck, that’s hilarious. Did you notice that Bill dresses the same? I mean, he did upgrade to regular jeans instead of jorts.”

//

Eddie could hear a voice, but he couldn’t respond. He wasn’t even sure if he could open his eyes. He knew that voice. He definitely knew that voice. And he did notice that Bill no longer wore … _jorts_.

“Nothing’s good now and there’s no real rock n fucking roll. No real depth and emotion. By the way, do you know how upset I was when I found out that Elton John doesn’t write his own lyrics? The piano, yeah, but Candle In The Wind? Not his fucking words. I guess Elvis didn’t write his music either but fuck, at least Taylor Swift writes her own fucking lyrics.”

 _But you don’t even write your own material_. Eddie wants to say that, but his mouth is dry. He figured out that it was Richie’s voice. No one else would be filling the silence with such opinionated bullshit. Eddie breathed through his nose, a heavy breath that burned. He sort of felt like he was swimming to the surface of water. Like he accidentally went too far under in the quarry and was trying to push his way to the surface. He could see the glimmer of the sun on the surface. He opened his eyes, and a quiet noise of pain left him.

“I know, I know. I sound like my fucking dad when I say _music these days just ain’t the same_. But it’s not. Not even the good stuff is good.”

Eddie wanted to know what Richie thought the good stuff was. When they were kids, Richie listened to music that was way too loud. He liked hard rock that made Eddie grit his teeth. Did Richie still like that crap?

“Eddie?” Richie said. “Are you awake? Oh my god, I’m over here talking about Taylor Swift and you’re fucking awake.”

Eddie couldn’t say anything. His mouth is open, but nothing is coming out. He couldn’t really feel anything either. He couldn’t move his arms, but he could wiggle his fingers a little bit. Eddie felt a wave of panic go through him. “Wha -“ It was all that would come out.

“Oh god, are you okay?” Richie moved closer to the top of the bed and pressed the call button for the nurse.

“No.” Eddie said, a hoarse sound. He was dizzy and thirsty.

“Mr. Tozier, please take a step back.” A voice said.

“Call me Richie, Linda. We’re practically roommates at this point.” Richie sounded further away though.

“Mr. Kasbrak?”

It was the nurse. Eddie couldn’t really focus on what she looked like though. He was really starting to feel like shit. The dizziness and fuzzy vision was making him feel sick and he had a suspicion that throwing up wasn’t going to be good for him when he couldn't breath without it hurting. Plus, there was a tube in his mouth.

“Are you in pain?” She asked.

“No.” Eddie said, but that's really all he could say. He supposed he could have gotten yes out if he needed to, but it wasn’t that bad. He had lived through the worst of the pain. He remembered that. This seemed like nothing. Or like he was drugged up. Eddie closed his eyes again. It made him feel less woozy. He was drifting back out of the conversation again. He couldn’t answer the nurse’s questions and sleeping seemed like the best option.

//

Richie had been there for hours. The nurse wouldn’t let him stay in Eddie’s room past visiting hours. Richie was stuck in the hospital lobby trying to sleep in the world’s most uncomfortable chair. Yes, he had a hotel room in Bangor like everyone else did. The rest of The Losers were staying for Richie’s trial and to make sure that Eddie was okay. Richie didn’t like the idea of Eddie waking up again and him not being there for it. That flash of brown, wide eyes was enough to keep Richie there for as long as he needed to be.

He must have finally drifted off a little, because he was woken by the sound of his name.

“Richie?”

Eyes blinked open to see Stan standing there with his wife standing behind him. Richie sat up and stretched his arms out. “Fuck me, that’s the worst chair in human history.”

“Have you been here all night?” Stan asked.

“Yeah.” Richie said.

“You look like shit.” Stan said.

“Stanley.” Stan’s wife said in a scolding sort of tone.

Stan grinned a little, shaking his head. “Sorry, Patty. He does though.”

“It’s okay, I’ve been called a lot worse.” Richie said.

“You do look terrible though.” Patty said. “No offense.”

Richie snorted a little. “Okay, I get it. Hospital chairs aren’t like the best place for me to get my beauty rest.” He stood up, wincing slightly. The chair wasn't the best place for his back either. The small part of him that actually kept the rest of his body running wondered if his back was really going to be right since whatever the fuck happened in that sewer between him seeing those big bright lights and waking up to see Eddie get skewered like a kabob by a alien clown's limb.

Speaking of which, Richie nodded toward the hall where Eddie’s room was and headed inside. Eddie was still sleeping. Richie swallowed hard, looking at Eddie’s pale face, the deep circles under his eyes. He got an overwhelming reminder of what it was like to look at someone in their casket, if it wasn’t for the heart monitor. He moved closer and reached out to brush some of the hair away from his forehead.

“How is he?” Stan asked as he stepped inside.

“He woke up last night, but all he could say was ‘no’ and it was so pathetic, but very Eddie. He loves to tell people no.” Richie smiled a little at that.

Stan chuckled softly. He put his hand on Richie's shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” A voice said from the doorway. Linda. Richie’s favorite nurse, aside from the one that yelled at him back in Derry. “There can only be two of you in here at a time.”

“I’ll go. You two stay with your friend.” Patty said.

Richie had immediately got the sense that Patty was very sweet when they’d met yesterday. Stan had a good girl and that made Richie feel good.

“No, no. I need to find some coffee. I’ll wait in the lobby.” Richie started toward the door before Stan could say anything.

“Richie, you need to go get some sleep.” Stan said. "Why don't you head back to the hotel? We'll stay with Eddie for awhile."

Richie shook his head, half-way out the door. “I’m good.”

“Eddie’s not going anywhere.” Stan called. “They’re taking really good care of him.”

“But what if he wakes up alone.” Richie paused to say quietly, looking back over his shoulder.

Stan’s expression changed to something much more sympathetic. “We won’t let him be alone. We’re going to stay for awhile and you can get some rest.”

“I’m getting coffee and coming back.” Richie was talking on his way down the hall.

“Richie - ” Stan followed him. He shot Patty an apologetic look before going after him. “You can’t live here. You need to go get some rest.”

Richie had stopped in the hallway in front of the elevator though. He was slumped against the wall with his hand over his face, and his face scrunched up like he was trying not to cry.

Stan put his hand on Richie’s shoulder. “He’s going to be okay.”

Richie shoved his arm away. “He wouldn’t even be here like this if it wasn’t for Mike calling us and getting us all nearly fucking killed.”

“You know we made a promise.” Stan said.

“Yeah, but why’d it have to be him that got hurt?” Richie asked. His voice was high and filled with tears. He swallowed hard.

“C’mere.” Stan pulled Richie close to him.

Richie ducked his head into Stan’s shoulder and started sobbing. It was silent, the kind with lots of shoulder shaking. Stan squeezed Richie tightly. Richie clung more tightly onto Stan, because he suddenly remembered that he almost lost them _both_. “I’m sorry you got shit water all over your cuts.” Richie finished lamely, not knowing how to even start to talk about that.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Stan said.

“I’m sorry no one else came to your Bar Mitzvah.”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably for the best. It was pretty fucking boring until the end, right?”

Richie laughed. He pulled back from the hug a little. “Fuck, I missed you.”

"Get some sleep, Richie."

.

When Richie got to the hotel, he didn’t go right to his room. He went to the bar, despite the fact that it was the middle of the day and he had to get the desk attendant to pour him a drink. He sat in silence, finally letting his brain process what was going on in his life. Somehow, despite the fact that he was sleep deprived, anxious, and possibly going to prison, it seemed better than it had when he was in LA. There was something burning deep within him that hadn't in a long time. It was something like hope. Something to aim for. Sure, maybe booze wasn't exactly the way to get to the end of the tunnel, but he needed a fucking break.

Just as he was finishing up his drink, he was ambushed by Bill. Ambushed because he didn’t particularly want to talk to Bill. He was very, very grouchy and a nap was really the best thing for him to do if he could manage it.

"How is Eddie?" Bill asked.

“I don’t know, Bill. He’s been unconscious for almost a week straight. How the fuck am I supposed to know how he is?” Richie asked.

“I was just wondering if they told you anything else.” Bill had those sad eyes, the ones he'd never seemed to shake after Georgie died, even all these years later.

“Sorry. I don’t.” Richie said, voice softening. “It’s a good sign that he woke up yesterday, don’t you think?” 

“That’s a really good sign, Rich.” Bill said. “I’m going to go see him.”

“Just please, promise to call me if he wakes up again.” Richie plead. He had to wake up again.

“I will.”

//

The next time that Eddie woke, he felt like his head was a little clearer. He was happy to find Stan there. Though he became alert and aware enough to be embarrassed that he was meeting Stan’s wife when his hair was gross and he had a catheter in. The nice nurses brought him water with a bendy straw in it so he could drink and try to talk more.

Stan moved his chair close to Eddie’s bed so he could remind him what actually happened. He told Eddie as delicately as he possibly could that he'd been stabbed through the chest with one of It's claws. Eddie was glad that he could still at least half-way remember everything and didn’t think Stan had lost his mind or that he was still dreaming. Stan also told him that back in Derry, they told the doctors that he was impaled by a wood beam inside the Neibolt house. The Losers hadn’t really given anyone reason why they were there, but no one had asked. Eddie sincerely hoped that no one would. Patty was down for lying to the doctors to avoid explaining about supernatural clowns. Apparently, she was also down for believing all this.

Eddie didn’t have time to ask Stan if they had actually beat It before a nurse came in.

Stan and Patty had to leave because Eddie didn't want them to be there while the nurses changed his bandages. It was all embarrassing enough as it was.

After the nurses changed the bandages, Eddie got to meet his doctor. Doctor Mohan was his name. His voice was very stern, but he had warm eyes behind his glasses. Eddie was pleased at how matter-of-fact and professional he seemed. Eddie was also glad that he was himself enough to have that thought process. He was awake. He could move, he could think, and he could talk. He was alive.

“How do you feel?” Doctor Mohan asked him, looking up over his glasses.

“Like I’ve been impaled.” Eddie replied honestly.

Dr. Mohan laughed softly, which made Eddie smile. “Mr. Kaspbrak - ”

“Eddie.”

“Eddie, then.” Dr. Mohan said. “Are you aware of any of the injuries you have? Or the procedures, surgeries, and treatments that you’ve received?”

Eddie felt a little bit panicked at the idea that he didn’t know anything about what his body had been through in the last … “I don’t even know how long I’ve been here. I’m not in Derry. I don’t think that I remember anything after being hurt.”

“You were airlifted here, to Bangor, seven days ago.” Dr. Mohan told him.

“Seven days ago!?” Eddie was overwhelmed with the idea that all these things had happened to him while he was unconscious. 

Dr. Mohan explained that the puncture went completely through to his chest. He was thankful that Stan was there to inform him of what they had told the doctors. Otherwise, he would have been having to add loss of memory to his apparently long list of ailments that came with a gaping hole through your torso.

The hole had missed his spine by two miraculous inches, only causing fractures to his spine that had apparently been fixed with tiny rods, which made Eddie want to reach into his body and claw them out. He had broken ribs, two of which had to be reconstructed, with _what_ Eddie was having trouble taking in all the information to find out. He had a collapsed lung. He had lost almost 50% of the blood in his body and he had blood running through his veins that wasn’t his own, which was enough to cause him to feel panicky, much less everything else.

Dr. Mohan asked Eddie questions about if he could feel his hands and legs, which was a little more than concerning. He could definitely feel his legs, even move his toes. His arms were okay, though his left arm was tingly and he couldn't ball that hand into a fist. Dr. Mohan brought Linda back into the room to help Eddie move his limbs around, to be sure that he didn't have nerve damage and that his body would properly circulate. Eddie was very drugged up, so he knew that he would be asking more questions about all of this when his head was clearer.

In hindsight, everything wasn’t so bad. He remembered breaking his arm when he was thirteen. He thought about how it had been the first real pain he had ever felt in his life and it hadn’t ended him as a person. Neither had this. He was here. He was okay. _You could still exist inside the pain, in spite of the pain._

“How the hell am I still alive?” Eddie couldn’t help asking.

“The human body is surprisingly resilient when given the right care. That and probably some luck.” Doctor Mohan said honestly.

“Holy shit.” Eddie said. Someone was associating him with luck. He laughed, and it hurt a little.

Dr. Mohan raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Eddie said.

Doctor Mohan nodded. He looked back down at the paperwork. He was explaining a lot of things to Eddie that Eddie was fairly certain he would have to ask about again. He felt good and he was comprehending some of it, but for the most part, it was just too much information for him.

“Am I going to have a hole in my chest forever?” Eddie asked. He felt a little childish asking that, but it was a serious question.

“No, but you are going to have a pretty gnarly scar.”

.

Eddie didn’t remember falling asleep, but he apparently had. It was bright in his room when he woke. The clock on the wall said it was 10 o'clock.

“Eddie.”

Across the room sat Bill Denbrough. Eddie felt warm and safe just seeing Bill, even in his older age with a streak of grey hair in the front. He was still dressed like the Bill he remembered though, t-shirt and flannel with jeans and converse. 

_Did you notice that Bill dresses the same? I mean, he did upgrade to regular jeans instead of jorts._

The familiarity was comforting.

“Hi.” Eddie said, voice hoarse. He shifted and winced as he tried to reach the cup of ice that he was allowed. Bill was on his feet, handing the cup over and doing his best to help Eddie. “Thanks.” Eddie said with a mouthful of ice.

Bill smiled. “Of course.” Bill moved the chair closer so that he could talk with Eddie. He even put his hand on Eddie’s arm which was really nice.

Eddie had always looked up to Bill, even though they were the same age. Bill had this quality in him, this braveness and leadership that was so easy to admire. Bill had always made Eddie feel stronger and safer. As much as Eddie was content with sitting there and basking in the warmth and nostalgia that came with Bill’s presence, it hit him that he didn’t really know what happened in the sewers. He didn’t know if they actually beat It.

Eddie tried to remember. Bits and pieces were coming back, in flashes. He was trying to string them together in order. He remembered the ritual. He could remember pieces of It's tricks, the doors. He remembered Richie floating. He remembered being angrier than he'd ever been in his life, throwing that iron rod, trying to kill It. He remembered the pain. He remembered trying to stay conscious, keep himself awake. He remembered a lot of yelling. He remembered Richie holding him, carrying him out.

The beeping of his heart monitor was increasing.

"Bill, what happened?" Eddie asked. "Stan told me about being stabbed, but ... " Eddie trailed off, shaking his head a little.

"Do you remember being down there? In the sewers?" Bill asked.

"Mostly. I think." Eddie said. "Bill, what happened? Did we ... beat It?”

“Yes.” Bill's expression was filled with such relief. He was reminded of what Bill was like when they were young, before he'd lost Georgie.

Eddie felt relieved too. Tension that he didn’t know he was holding was released. If he had to hear it from someone, he was glad that it was Big Bill. Their fearless leader. Or at least, that had always been the way that Eddie viewed him when they were kids. Fearless and reckless might have gone more hand in hand when it came to Bill. And they had all followed, knowing that it had to be them.

"Where's Richie?" Eddie asked suddenly. Eddie could sort of remember hearing Richie's voice at the hospital, now that he thought about it. He remembered feeling safe when he heard Richie. He smiled a little, felt warm. 

"He's back at the hotel."

"Oh."

Bill looked like he was hesitating to say more. "He's been here every day. Stan finally got him to go back to the room and sleep."

"He should rest."

"That's what I thought."

"Is Mike okay?" Eddie asked suddenly, remembering the library.

"He's okay."

"Good." Eddie felt himself already getting tired again. He was struggling to keep his eyes open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really tried to do some research about being impaled through the chest and as it turns out, there’s not much out there. Justifiable homicide? Not really a lot out there either. Just know that if the government wasn’t preoccupied, they would probably be monitoring me after all these google searches.
> 
> I’m absolutely not a doctor so there’s medical info in here that’s definitely inaccurate. Not a lawyer either, so don’t use my words if you find yourself in court for murdering your psychotic childhood bully.
> 
> Title comes from Medicine by Daughter. Which was in my opinion, written for Eddie Kaspbrak. I also listened to The Lumineers a lot while I wrote this first bit.
> 
> I couldn't decide who's point of view I liked more so why not both?


	2. Eddie’s Hospital Room and Richie’s Murder Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Richie are both very grumpy. 
> 
> Warnings: this chapter got a little dark, brief references of racism, mentions of death in a way of like oh shit we all die, and always poorly placed jokes. There's brief references to the book AND movie where Eddie's internalized homophobia and his fear of disease (whether it be sexually transmitted diseases or disease and sickness in general) are associated with the leper.
> 
> But also, there’s a stuffed sloth in this chapter, so everything isn’t bad.

_Held on to hope like a noose, like a rope  
_ _God and medicine take no mercy on him  
_ _Poisoned his blood, and burned out his throat  
_ _Enough is enough, he's a long way from home_

_\- The Lumineers_

* * *

_It was dark outside. The sky was green and everything smelled like fumes, like rot, like shit, like death, like Derry. Eddie had the urge to run, so he tried to turn around and run. Run as fast as he could away from Derry. But someone grabbed his arm and tugged._

_“Eddie-bear, just where do you think you’re going?” His mother’s hand was wrapped around one of his wrists._

_“Mommy, please, let me run. Let me go.” He cried. He was small again, maybe twelve or thirteen. He was in the gym at Derry Elementary School. There were people standing around him, one of them was Henry Bowers, who was holding a knife, but there was an axe sticking out of the top of his head. He called Eddie a sissy._

_“No, I won’t let you. You’re going to go out with those dirty boys in that dirty place.” His mother’s voice changed into something else at the end. It was Pennywise’s voice. “Now you’re dirty too.” When he looked up, instead of his mother, the leper holding his arm. It’s tongue lolled out and licked across his face._

_“He didn’t have leprosy, you dummy. He had The Syph.” Richie was pushing his way through the crowd of people who were watching. “It’s a disease you get from from fucking . You know about fucking, don’t you, Eds?"_

_"_ _It makes you rot.” The voice that came from the leper said._ _Eddie was paralyzed with fear. He wanted to scream. His mouth felt dry and his throat and chest burned. He needed his inhaler. His chest burned badly, like he had been stabbed._ _He looked down and realized that he was hurting because he had been staked through the heart like a vampire. Impaled._

_“You left me , Eddie.” Instead of his mother or the leper, he was looking up at Myra now._

_Bill was there too, suddenly standing with Richie. “And now, we’re all going to leave you.”_

.

Eddie woke up to the sound of his heart monitor. He was sweating, but the hair was standing up on his arm. He felt gross, scared, and _alone_. It was the first time he had woken up without someone in his room with him, which was not extremely comforting after that dream. He stretched his arm out to get his ice cup. He was thrilled to find out that he could move though, even if it hurt a little. He sipped the melted ice carefully.

He could hear his monitor slowing down. As he listened to the sound of the monitor, he was suddenly reminded of how it had been when his dad was in the hospital. It was a strange thing to think about because he barely had any memories of his father at all. He mostly just remembered the look and smell of the hospital room. He felt like he was having a little bit of deja vu. He hated being at the hospital then and he really hated it now.

He tried to move his other arm, but he couldn't feel his hand and his heart monitor picked back up. He sipped on his water and tried to calm down.

One of his nurses turned up while Eddie was sipping on the icy water. Linda. He felt a little less spooked when she came in.

“Hi Eddie. Are you feeling okay?” She asked.

“Hi. I’m not sure. I had a crazy dream.”

She smiled a little. “It’s probably the morphine.”

Eddie wanted to say he didn't want morphine anymore if it was going to make him have dreams like that. He didn’t think that it was a good idea to refuse pain medicine at the moment though. He was hurting, despite the fact that he was apparently on a morphine drip. It was a searing pain, deep in his gut, in his lungs.

“We should probably change your bandage. It looks like you might have perspired.”

Eddie was a bit annoyed and embarrassed, but he cooperated regardless. Linda helped him sit upright. It hurt really badly. She untied his hospital gown. He felt a little nauseous at the idea of what was below the bandages. Linda told him not to look when she got to the front, so he didn’t.

After he was bandaged back up and allowed to drink more water, Linda asked him if he was up for walking around.

“Yes, please.” Eddie felt very relieved at the idea that he was allowed to walk. Although he was in quite a lot of pain, so he didn't know how it was going to work out. He remembered what Dr. Mohan said about proper blood circulation and muscle contractures, which was alarming enough to make him work through the pain when Linda and the other nurse (Eddie didn't remember her name if he'd been told what it was) helped him out of the bed. He was able to walk with them through the small room, twice, before he was too nauseous to do anything else.

.

Stan and Patty came that morning when visiting hours started. Eddie didn't realize he'd woken up so early with his nightmare. He was really happy to have their company again. He was glad to be distracted from the weird feeling that he was having between pain, his brain feeling fuzzy, and the dream. He asked Patty about her job (an elementary school teacher) and found out how she and Stan met (in college at a Jewish frat party). He also found out that they both went to college in New York. It made Eddie feel weirdly empty inside, like he was so close yet so far away from one of the people (maybe too, he liked Patty a lot) that would have made him feel whole again.

After New York, Stan and Patty went to Atlanta on a whim. 

“Mm, I couldn’t survive anywhere south of like … Ohio.” Eddie said. “I’d die.”

“Well you just about did that here in Maine, so we should probably keep you north.” Stan said.

Eddie snorted, and it _hurt_. He laughed more and it hurt more.

“Are you okay?” Patty asked.

“Yeah.” Eddie said.

She looked concerned. Stan moved to fluff his pillow a little.

After a long, heavy pause Eddie couldn’t help asking. Again. “Where’s Richie?” He felt automatically like Stan would know something about why he was asking for Richie that Eddie wasn’t even sure he was ready to admit for himself. He felt like he was thirteen again, hanging out in The Barrens and very content with Stan birdwatching, but waiting for Richie to come down the hill and call Stan a 'fucking nerd' and pinch Eddie's cheek. “I um, I remember hearing his voice once when I woke up. I was just … wondering if he left.”

“He’s back at the hotel still." Stan explained. As Eddie suspected, something crossed his face like he knew that Eddie wasn't just wondering, that he knew Eddie missed Richie.

“Okay good.” Eddie knew that he sounded relieved. If he hadn’t almost bled out earlier that week, he probably would have blushed from embarrassment, even though neither of them had any idea about what was going on his head.

“Do you want me to call him?” Stan asked. His eyebrows raised and the small little hint of a smirk on his face that made Eddie feel even more embarrassed if it were possible.

“No. No, that’s okay. He should rest.” Eddie said quickly.

“He needed it. He looked like shit.” Stan said.

Patty elbowed him lightly, but was giggling softly. "Don't be rude, Stanley."

Stan grabbed her arm and squeezed gently. Eddie smiled at them.

“You’ve all been through a lot.” Patty said. “I think you all reserve the right to not be at your 100% best.”

“I think she’s saying that you also look like shit.” Stan said.

Eddie laughed, and Patty did too, hand over her mouth.

“So I have your stuff in my room.” Stan said after a while. “We took care of your room back in Derry so they wouldn’t charge you for it anymore.”

“Thanks.” Eddie hadn’t even thought about that stuff yet. “Is my phone with my stuff?” That was something else he hadn’t really thought about yet, which was strange. Though he turned his phone off when he got to Derry, which meant he hadn’t looked at it in nearly a week.

When he had left for the airport, Eddie kept getting calls from Myra. He kept ignoring the calls and turned his phone off during the flight. He had 105 missed calls when he got off the plane in Maine. Eddie had contemplated answering the phone once he got to Derry, but he didn’t. He turned his phone completely off when he got a rental car that had built-in navigation (not that he needed it, especially after awhile. It was like his body knew where to go). His phone was still turned off and presumably in his stuff that Stan had gathered up for him. 

“Yep. I think it’s dead.” Stan said. “Want me to bring it to you?”

“Not really.” Eddie said, still avoiding the entire idea that he was going to have to talk to Myra eventually. 

“You don’t get bored in here without it?” Stan asked.

“I’ve only really been awake for two days and I’m still napping a lot.” Eddie said. “So nah.”

“Sheer willpower.” Stan said.

Eddie laughed softly.

Stan and Patty were getting up from their chairs. They'd been there about an hour, after all. “We have to head out. You gonna be okay? Don’t need anything?” Stan asked.

“I think I’m good for now.” Eddie replied.

"I'm gonna put my number and Patty's by the phone just in case. Call me if you need anything." Stan said. "But I'll be back tomorrow for sure."

“You’re not heading home?” Eddie asked quietly.

Stan looked over at Patty. She was smiling. “We want to make sure you’re well before we go.” She said.

“You don’t have to do that.” Eddie said.

“Tough shit.” Stan said. He leaned in to kiss Eddie on the top of his head. Which made Eddie grumble under his breath.

//

The truth was Richie wasn’t resting. He was far from resting. He was preparing to be in front of the judge and jury wondering if he was going to spend time in prison.

The courtroom was _hot_ , or Richie was nervous sweating. Probably both. It was packed full, and yet, in total silence aside from the voice of the prosecutor. With advice from his lawyer weighing heavy on his mind, Richie kept his mouth shut tightly in the courtroom until he was addressed. When the prosecutor talked about Richie’s outburst days prior in the Jade Orient, it was bad enough, but when the prosecutor started to talk about how vulnerable the mentally ill were and claimed that Richie must have thought that their lives were dispensable, it became increasingly difficult for Richie to sit still. His leg was jiggling at a high speed.

“And noting Richard Tozier’s public admission to rehab, how are we to know that his substance abuse didn’t come in to play - ”

“Objection. - The defendant has a statement from his manager and Narcotics Anonymous sponsor accounting for his sobriety.”

 _Suck it, asshole_. Richie thought, but didn’t say.

There were witnesses of Bowers behavior from Juniper Hill Asylum. Henry was on his 'best behavior' all the time and it was 'so strange' that he had even broken out. They did admit to noticing his strange behavior the day before. He was chanting ‘Kill them all’.

Richie wished that he could blame it all on the clown, but then he'd be the one in Juniper Hill. So he sat quietly, so tense that his jaw was hurting.

When the court took a break for lunch, Richie couldn’t eat. His lawyer told him things were going fine, that even Henry's witnesses had admitted to his strange behavior and violent threats leading up to the day. Stan had shown up finally too, and there was something about his presence that was reassuring. Lunch was only an hour, but seemed like it lasted five.

Richie was pulled to the stand after. He went round and round _and round_ about what happened in the library, much like when he had talked with the sheriff in Derry. He was firm with his words, story never changing or faltering, even when the prosecutor asked him questions. Then it was time for some of The Losers to give a testimony that Henry Bowers had been capable of violence his whole life. If they could convince the jury without Eddie’s most recent violent run-in with Bowers, it was ideal. If this trial had to be dragged out further than today, Richie wasn’t sure that he could handle it.

Ben spoke about the day that he met The Loser’s Club. He spoke about Henry cutting his stomach with a knife.

Mike recounted all of the torment that he went through during his childhood because of Henry Bowers. As Mike tearfully told the court that Bowers had killed his childhood dog, Richie knew that part of what Mike was releasing was more than just a testimony of evidence. Of course, while Mike was on the stand, they rounded back to the night that Bowers was killed.

“Did you believe that Henry Bowers was going to kill you?”

“Yes, I did. I truly believed that Henry Bowers was going to kill me.” Mike said.

“No further questions.”

The closing statements were the worst part, summing up everything that they had already been through. “No human life is worth more than another. It’s your duty, as jurors, to make sure that the defendant is reprimanded for his actions.” The prosecutor’s finishing line made Richie feel strange. He did believe that Henry was an inevitable product of his surroundings; his crazy father and Derry. He did believe that all human lives were equal and no one had the right to be above the law. But this was Derry and he knew how the law, the land, and the people worked. It wasn’t that simple. Richie had to protect his friend. That was all that had mattered in the moment.

Sitting through his defense, Richie was starting to feel nauseous and he was fairly certain that after this was over, he was going to puke no matter what the outcome was. Otherwise, he was feeling strangely calm.

“Unfortunately, Henry Bower’s actions were due to his mental health and that was something that should have been monitored sooner than it was. Perhaps then, his father and those children from the summer of 1989 would still be alive.”

Richie closed his eyes, swallowing heavily, knowing what the true cause of all that violence was. He felt light-headed and his breathing was picking up.

“Regardless of this unfortunate reality, Henry Bowers _was_ capable of deadly violence. He escaped from the place where he was getting help, was gone for days, and during that time received no treatment. Without treatment, the violence that he was capable of easily resurfaced. His grudge against the town’s librarian and one of the only African-American members of Derry’s community has been made clear. Henry Bowers attacked Michael Hanlon while he was alone at his place of work. 

“Richard Tozier saw Michael Hanlon being attacked by a strange man with a knife. We have been over that scenario multiple times. Knowing the history of blatant racism and violence that Mr. Hanlon has had to endure during his life, Mr. Tozier could easily have concluded that his friend was in deadly danger. Both Mr. Hanlon and Mr. Tozier believed that Mr. Hanlon’s life was in danger. You heard Mr. Hanlon say, ‘I believed he was going to kill me’.

“Mr. Tozier has made it clear that he feels remorse for his actions and that he did not set out to kill someone. He did not believe that he was above the law. He believed that his friend was in danger. He acted to stop deadly force being inflicted upon his friend.

“The defense rests, your honor.”

The court ruled in Richie’s favor. 

Richie hugged Beverly first, then said, “I’m going to throw up.” He barely made it to the bathroom to do it.

//

The following day, Eddie was allowed to walk in the hallway with the nurses. He was walking a little better and was really, really hoping they would say he could get up on his own soon. He was tired of feeling like a burden. No such luck, however. Eddie was still woozy, achy, and felt a little unsteady standing up with the help.

After he was settled back in his bed, Bill had come back and he had Mike with him. 

“Hey.” Eddie said brightly to Mike. “Are you okay?”

Mike laughed, shaking his head. “Really? You have a hole in your body and you’re asking that?”

Eddie shrugged a shoulder and then winced a little.

“I’m fine, Eddie.” Mike smiled.

Eddie was happy to see Mike. Although he couldn't help the disappointment he was feeling that Richie hadn't come to see him yet. Maybe he didn't want to see him. Maybe he'd gone back to his life in LA.

“Richie’s coming later.” Bill said, as if he could read Eddie's mind. “He and Mike had to go to their court hearing yesterday.”

Mike looked over at Bill and shook his head.

“Um? Excuse me.” Eddie's brows drew together, mouth in a thin line. 

“The whole Henry Bowers situation. What Richie did to save my life.” Mike reminded Eddie.

“Why didn’t you all tell me about a fucking court hearing?” Eddie demanded. Although after he thought about it for a moment, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that they had to go to one. _Anyway, I can’t really talk about it since I have to go to trial._ Eddie shook his head, “The guy stabbed me in the face. I could have _helped_.”

“We didn’t want you to worry.” Bill said carefully. 

“What the fuck? I hate all of you for not telling me.” Eddie was taken aback by the idea that something that big had happened and all of them had kept it from him. He supposed he shouldn’t have taken it to heart, but it kind of pissed him off regardless. He felt really silly for being upset that Richie hadn't come to see him yet. “So I assume since you’re here and Richie’s coming later, everything went well?”

“It did, but it sucked.” Mike said. “I mean, no one wants to believe that killing a guy is the only move.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie brought his hands to his face, rubbing over his eyes. “What happened?” Arms stretched out and they _hurt_. He grit his teeth and put them back in his lap.

“Richie got off on defense.” Mike said first, so that Eddie didn't worry throughout their entire recount of what had happened the previous day. Bill and Mike took turns telling Eddie about the trial.

“God.” Eddie said, closing his eyes. “I’m really glad no one’s going to jail and good fucking riddance to Bowers. But fuck you guys for not telling me!”

Mike sighed, leaning back in his chair. He rubbed his hands on the top of his legs, a nervous motion. “Great, now you’re mad at us too.”

“Wait, who else is mad?” Eddie asked. "No one else has a right to be mad." He added.

“Richie.” Bill said.

“What’s his problem?” Eddie asked.

“He’s pissed off that I didn’t tell him immediately when you woke up.” Bill explained. "I wanted him to focus on the trial and actually get some kind of rest. I waited until after the trial and he yelled at me. Bev and Ben talked him down. He's been with them since I think."

“He also blames me for you being hurt.” Mike said quietly. He was looking down toward the ground, playing with his hands in his lap a little.

Eddie couldn’t quite comprehend the idea that Richie was actually upset about any of that. He guessed that since Richie was the one who had been sitting with him a lot while he was out, maybe that had something to do with that.

But blaming Mike for him being hurt?

“Wait a minute. Mike, you know I’m not mad at you … right?” Eddie asked. “I mean, okay, about not telling me about the court case, I’m a little bit pissed off about not being told. I’ll get over that. I’m not mad at you for bringing me back to Derry or _whatever_ Richie thinks. It’s not your fault that I got hurt.”

“I know.” Mike said, but Eddie wasn’t convinced by the tone that he used.

Over the past twenty-something years, Eddie had been feeling very lonely without even knowing it. He kept himself too busy to notice the empty place in his heart from not having his friends in his life. He hadn’t realized how bad the emptiness really was until he got back to Derry and it filled back up. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Mike, remembering everyone and not having them remember him. If Eddie thought that he was lonely, he knew it must have been worse for Mike.

Eddie was coming to the realization that his life, up to last week, had been pretty pointless. He hadn’t done one thing that he actually _wanted_ to do. He had let himself easily fall back under the “protection” of his mother. When she died, he found someone to marry who was exactly like her. Someone he didn’t even want to marry. He had spent the past twenty-something years merely existing and thinking that he wasn’t capable of the things he knew in his heart that he _was_. He had come back to Derry and remembered that his friends needed him. He was important. He was braver then he knew. Sure, he needed the reminders, but somewhere deep down, he knew it all along. It felt like he was coming to the surface at the quarry again.

“I knew what I was getting into when I came back. Even if I didn't know-know, I knew I was scared, but I'd made a promise. Yes, we were all fucking terrified that night at the restaurant, but no one thinks that it's your fault.” Eddie said. “I don’t blame you. _I_ made the decision to come. _I_ made the decision to stay.”

“I didn’t want to call any of you. I - I really only did it when I got scared too.” Mike admitted.

“It’s okay, Mike. It’s okay.” Eddie said. Bill had his hand on Mike's shoulder, squeezing it. “Can I tell you guys something?”

“Yeah, of course.” Mike said.

“Anything.” Bill agreed.

“That call was like a wake-up call. It scared me shitless, yes, but - but it was like up until that point I had just been ... existing. I left a part of myself here in Derry that was really important. That was all of you guys.” Eddie tried to explain. "And there was a cost to getting that back, but fuck it, I think it was worth it. I’d hug you if I could because I’m just … glad to have you all back. I would die for all of you."

“Me too.” Mike had gotten up from his seat to take Eddie’s hand. Eddie squeezed it the best that he could. There was an understanding between the two of them, a release of some of the guilt that Mike had been holding onto, maybe.

The first step to freedom was the seven of them understanding that there was absolutely nothing but love between them.

.

About an hour had passed and the mood had lightened considerably. When Richie appeared in the doorway, he was holding a drink tray of Starbucks drinks. He had on sunglasses and he was wearing a leather jacket. There were holes in his shirt. There was a bright patterned shirt hanging loosely over the one that had holes, peeking out from beneath the leather jacket. It had cactuses on it. For someone who was wearing a shirt with tiny cactuses on it, Richie was very angry and Eddie could tell before he even opened his mouth.

So much for nothing but love between them. 

“Thanks for letting me know that Eddie was alive and coherent, assholes. I would have asked for everyone’s Starbucks order, but then I thought, deceptive pricks don’t deserve their proper order and I just got lattes.” Richie picked up one of the cups and pointed a finger at Bill from around it. “Fuck you.” He poked Bill’s chest with it. “You broke your promise, dick.” He handed him the latte.

“I’ve never had Starbucks before.” Mike said.

“I hope you _don’t_ like it.” Richie said handing over the latte.

"Are you serious right now?” Eddie asked. “Hi, Richie? Nice to fucking see you too? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Eddie spat, sitting up a little more and then wincing.

“Hey - ” Linda poked her head into the room. She looked suspicious, like she had heard the commotion. Honestly, Richie was so loud that there was no way she hadn’t heard him. “Only two visitors at a time.”

“Thanks for the Starbucks. I’ll take that as an apology for your dramatic outburst.” Bill said toward Richie.

Richie closed his eyes letting out a noise that was something like a growl and a sigh. “Fine.”

Bill smiled. Mike was sipping the latte and making an expression like he wasn’t too sure whether he liked it or not. “See you later, Eddie.” Bill said. Mike gave him a wave and the two of them disappeared into the hall. Linda eyed Richie one more time before leaving the room too.

Eddie was kind of glad that Bill and Mike excused themselves. He was getting sleepy. And he just wanted to talk to Richie. That obviously wasn’t going to make him feel any less exhausted, but he wanted to anyway.

“Where the hell is my latte?” Eddie asked.

“Gave it to Linda.” Richie said.

“Rude.”

“You have a hole in your chest. You don’t need it.” Richie said.

Eddie would have been more angry if Richie didn’t have a point. He wasn’t allowed to have anything but ice chips and jello, so a latte probably wasn’t on the approval list.

"Can you even swallow anything or does it come pouring out of your chest?" Richie asked.

"Fuck you." Eddie practically yelled.

Richie just looked at him for a moment, brows furrowed and mouth gaped open. Finally, he said, “You have scared the hell out of me, Eds.”

Eddie let out a huff of a laugh. “Scared you? Try waking up and not knowing where you are or how long you’ve been there.”

“You got me there.”

“Fuck you for not telling me about the trial.” Eddie spat.

“Wow, it’s almost like you were unconscious the last time I saw you and I couldn’t.”

Eddie was pissed that Richie was making some fair points. 

He was also pissed that Richie was hovering. He was standing there with sunglasses in his hair, a shirt with cactuses on it, and he managed to look ... _handsome_. He was so big and broad. He still wasn’t wearing his glasses and his eyes were bright, even though he did have deep circles under them. It shouldn’t have been allowed that when he sipped whatever drink he was drinking he got just a tiny little speck of it on his upper lip and had to lick it off.

 _Get a fucking grip, Kasbrak_.

“Sit, please. You’re making me fucking nervous.” Eddie said.

“When aren’t you?” Richie did sit down in one of the hospital chairs though. He was leaning forward in it, hunched over with his elbows on his knees.

“Did you really get Starbucks for Linda?” Eddie asked.

“Yes.” Richie was digging his glasses out of his pocket and put them on.

Eddie smiled a little. His expression changed quickly though. What if he _liked_ Linda and that was why? Or worse, what if Richie was just actually deep down a _nice fucking guy_? 

“What the fuck was all that?” Eddie spat. “Did you forget we just defeated a fucking monster together and are bonded for life or what?”

Richie stared at Eddie for a pause again. Eddie really didn’t know what to do when Richie was quiet, because it usually meant he was actually thinking about what he was going to say instead of spouting off his usual bullshit.

“I thought you weren’t going to wake up.” Richie said after a moment.

“Well, I did. I’m awake now and I’m okay.” Eddie explained. "I mean, I’m okay considering."

“Fuck, Eddie.” Richie said, all breathless and half laughing.

Eddie smiled a small little smile again, looking down at the blanket. He liked hearing Richie say his name like that. He liked it a lot. It made his heart feel like it was swelling and he hoped to God it didn’t pick up in pace for them both to hear on the heart monitor. He was going to blame all these free-flowing thoughts on the painkillers.

“Thanks for staying in here with me while I was unconscious. I could hear you talking sometimes and it - it was comforting.” Eddie did admit.

Richie’s eyes widened and he was sitting up in the chair again. “You could hear me?”

Eddie nodded. “Sometimes.” He looked at Richie suspiciously, because he could tell that Richie wasn’t expecting him to say so.

“I was talking a lot of shit.” He laughed a dismissive kind of laugh.

Eddie was still suspicious, but he didn’t say anything about it. He just rolled his eyes and said, “When aren’t you?”

.

The following day, Eddie wasn’t exactly thrilled that Richie showed up while the nurses were walking him around the room. Richie stood in the doorway holding a plastic bag and there was a stuffed animal of some kind sticking out of it.

“What the fuck is that?” Eddie demanded angrily. “Sorry.” He said softly to the nurses.

Linda was trying not to smile.

“A surprise. You can have it after you walk.” Richie said.

“Then get out and let me.” Eddie snapped.

Richie listened without arguing. He seemed to be in a lot less combative mood than yesterday, which was a good thing. Once Eddie was settled back in his bed, he felt exhausted if he was being honest. He was looking forward to Richie’s company, even though Richie could be exhausting on his own.

Richie came back as soon as the nurses left. He grinned, opening the plastic bag and pouring it’s contents on the end of Eddie’s bed. Eddie could see it more clearly now. A stuffed animal that was almost as big as his pillow. There was also candy, chapstick and a phone charger.

“Again, what the fuck is that?” 

“It’s a sloth.”

“Richie, I don’t want that thing.”

“Why not?” Richie didn’t listen, he just put the stuffed sloth in the bed closer to him. 

Eddie didn’t try to push it away. He didn’t have the energy to argue about it being fluffy and possibly making him sweat. “ _Why_?” Eddie asked.

“Because it’s cute and has big brown puppy eyes like you.”

Eddie wanted to be annoyed. He really did. “Well that’s already wrong, because you already said it was a sloth.”

“How was walking?” Richie asked. He was sorting through the contents at the end of Eddie’s bed. He put two candy bars on Eddie’s table next to his water. Eddie wasn’t sure if he could eat them yet, but man, he wanted to.

“Walking was okay. It hurt.” Eddie admitted.

Richie was opening a chocolate bar for himself. He sat down, perched on the edge of one of the chairs. “How’s the gaping hole in your chest?”

“Fine.” Eddie said. “It’s not gaping as much since it’s healing, I think. Linda didn’t say anything about it, so no news is good news to me.”

Richie was eating his candy bar now.

“That’s incredibly rude of you.” Eddie said.

“What?”

“I can’t eat solid food right now.”

Richie looked at the candy bar in his hand. “I haven’t had breakfast.”

“That’s breakfast?”

“Yeah. I tried to eat breakfast at the hotel, but the eggs are like space eggs.”

“Space eggs?”

“Yeah, you know how astronauts have little powdery packs of food in space?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“That’s what the eggs taste like they were made from.”

Eddie just looked at him, trying to figure out how he ever came to that conclusion.

.

Eddie was embarrassed when his doctor came in the following day and he had a stuffed sloth in bed with him. He didn’t move it though. If Dr. Mohan was amused by the sloth, he tried not to make it too apparent. He just asked Eddie how he was feeling.

Eddie took a deep breath that almost hurt. “Well, I can reach my water cup now, so that’s good. I walked yesterday and today. I’m just … tired. The pain isn’t very bad though. It’s a dull feeling. Or maybe I'm just used to it.”

“Your right arm is okay. You can reach with it?” 

Eddie nodded. 

“What about the left arm?”

Eddie tried to reach with his left arm, but it was like he couldn’t move it as much. He could stretch it out, but it hurt more and he couldn't ball it into a fist. “Should I be worried?” He asked.

“You likely have nerve damage.”

Eddie wasn’t thrilled to hear about that.

“You aren’t having any neurological problems? Headaches? Blurred vision? Confusion?” Dr. Mohan went on.

Eddie couldn’t help letting out a breath of a laugh at confusion. “If you only knew how confusing the last few weeks have been.”

“But you remember them.”

Eddie paused, nodding slowly. “Yes.” He furrowed his brow. “Why are you asking me that? I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to keep up with everything that you told me.”

Dr. Mohan scribbled that down and it made Eddie feel nervous.

“We have to keep a check on these things. Your injury was severe. You were in a coma. You lost a lot of blood. Your body started to go into shock. Parts of your brain shut down. Sometimes, that can have long-term effects on parts of the brain. Lack of blood flow, lack of oxygen.” Dr. Mohan said. “And then there was the complication during the first surgery.” 

This was the first that Eddie had heard of any complication. Then he thought it over and realized that the whole damn thing was probably a complication.

“What kind of complication?”

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Eddie. Your heart stopped in surgery.”

Eddie didn’t know what to do with that information. If Dr. Mohan said anything else of importance, he didn’t hear it because he was lightheaded and everything was white noise. He could hear his heart beating in his ears. His heart that had completely stopped at some point in the last week.

“Eddie?”

“I think I’m going to faint.”

.

Eddie was laying on the bed with a cold cloth over his head when he woke. He was feeling oddly calm after he fainted. He didn’t really like being alone with the thoughts of death looming all around him though. Luckily the nurses were tending to him, so he wasn’t completely alone with it.

“If you need to talk, we can talk with you.” Linda said after a moment.

“I think I’m fine.” Eddie said.

“Okay.”

Eddie didn’t realize he was holding onto the arm of the stuffed animal Richie had gotten him until Linda asked, “Is that what your friend brought for your reward the other day?”

“Yeah.” Eddie said with a little breath of a laugh.

“What is it?” Linda asked.

“A sloth.” Eddie replied. “I know I can’t sweat and it’s big and fluffy and might make me sweat.”

“I think it’ll be okay.” Linda said. "You've got a lot of great friends, Eddie. They've all been really worried about you. They'll be glad to know that you're doing so well."

"Am I? I just fainted."

"You are. You're incredibly brave for everything you've been through. You're doing much better than we expected."

"Really?" Eddie asked.

"Yes." She smiled at him and removed the cloth from his head.

Eddie wanted to ask her not to leave, but felt like that would be very childish of him to do. He felt small, like a child again. He was being tended to and he was holding a stuffed animal for fuck’s sake. He felt strange. He wanted to do something, but there was nothing he could do but lay there. Linda's words had been comforting though.

It was perfect timing when Richie came to visit him. He only had to be alone for about fifteen minutes, processing it all.

“What the fuck happened to you? They said you fainted.” Richie asked. He was hovering over the bed again.

Eddie looked Richie over. He took in the brightly colored button up that was hanging loose and open over a band t-shirt. There was stubble on his neck and face. The idea of how scratchy it would feel against his skin shouldn’t have been appealing. Richie was wearing new glasses. He was taller than Eddie imagined him, even though he’d hit a growth spurt around sixteen and shot up nearly a foot and a half. Eddie’s chest hurt in a way that was twisting. It wasn’t from his injury. It was _longing_.

“I died.” Eddie said after a moment.

“They _told you_ that?”

“You knew?” Eddie asked.

"I - I was _there_."

“So you just didn’t tell me that I fucking died?”

“That’s something you casually drop into conversation.” Richie said, exasperated. "Hey Eddie! Glad you woke up. You died."

“Remember how you were pissed at Bill from keeping it from you that I was awake?” Eddie asked. Before Richie could say anything, “I’m pretty pissed off that you all kept that trial from me. And my literal death.”

“God, am I ever going to hear the end of this trial?” Richie asked, pushing his glasses up into his hair to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Probably not.” Eddie said.

“Anyway, that’s different.” Richie said, hands out and sounding even more exasperated.

“Why?”

“Because we didn’t tell you about those things to protect you - ”

Eddie groaned out loudly, interrupting him. “I am so tired of people thinking that they know what’s best for me!”

“I don’t mean it like _that_. I just meant that we were protecting you for the time being. We didn’t want you stressing out while you’re trying to rest and heal.” Richie explained. “Why are you yelling at me like I’m the only person who kept anything from you?”

“Because. You’re here and … I’m grumpy.” Eddie said.

Richie was clearly holding back a smile.

“Fuck off.” Eddie said, knowing that he was dying to laugh. “I get it, okay? You all were trying to look out for me. Whatever.”

“It’s your turn to calm down.” Richie adjusted his glasses back on his face.

“I’m calm.”

“Your heart monitor says otherwise.” Richie pointed out.

Eddie was irritated by that too. So maybe he was grumpy because he did need rest. He wasn’t about to say that Richie was right.

“You’ve really scared the fuck out of me this week.” Richie said suddenly.

“So me being in the hospital and dying is now somehow about you?”

“I know. Isn’t that so on brand for me?”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

Richie smiled a little. He was looking less pale, less serious, and more like himself. “I see you like the sloth.”

“He _is_ kind of cute. Ridiculous, but cute.” Eddie could think of more than one thing in the room that fit that description. He’d died. He was allowed to indulge in his thoughts a little.

“Cute, cute, cute.” Richie was leaning over his bed railing to pinch his cheeks. If he wasn’t already feeling like a child, he sure was now. He always hated it when Richie did that to him, but always secretly longed for the attention too.

“Fuck you, oh my god.” Eddie moved his arm to swat at Richie’s hand and pulled wrong at an IV and it stung, then his chest hurt from the sudden movement. He winced, relaxing back against the bed.

“Shit - are you okay?” Richie asked.

“Yeah. Don’t fucking touch me again.”

Richie held his hands up and backed away toward the chair.

He was really glad that Richie was there.

.

The nurses talked to him about what to do when he was _released_. They asked him about who would be taking care of him. Eddie kind of started freaking out, because he realized that he had no idea where he was even going to go when he was released. The idea of going back to New York made Eddie’s stomach turn. He could only imagine Myra’s reaction to all of this. She was going to hold this over him for the rest of his _life_. It was his own fault. He was the one who had been so disconnected from their relationship. He was the one who married her because that’s what he was supposed to do and not because he loved her. She was incredibly difficult, she was pushy and picky, she was manipulative at times. Regardless, she didn’t deserve to just sit there and worry about him for days on end.

Maybe if he called and apologized she would forgive him. He knew that she would. She always forgave him. She would forgive him and then take care of him. And he hated the idea of that for multiple reasons. 

Eddie couldn't imagine going back to his old life. Sitting at his desk in his office, tie tight and on the phone holding back the urge to curse as he talking loudly to one of his company's clients, saying 'no' every time someone from the office asked him to go out to lunch or out for drinks after work. Dreading going home his entire drive from work, taking out his rage on the traffic. Pretending to like whatever it was that Myra cooked for dinner, then sitting on the couch in his Manhattan townhouse, begrudgingly watching whatever Myra had picked out on the TV. The petty arguments that came from forced conversation, Myra being the only person that he couldn't say no to. Then digging through his medicine cabinet to take something for his 'insomnia' when really, he just didn't want to be kept awake with his own thoughts. Forcing himself to kiss her goodnight and say that he was sorry for being frustrated, he just had a long day at work, and Myra reminding him about all the pills he was supposed to take that he had already taken. Only for it all start over the next day, the reminder about the pills, the packed lunch, the be careful on your way to work.

He was tired of being taken care of. He was tired of the over exaggerated worries that had haunted him his whole life. First from his mother, and then Myra. He knew it wouldn’t be right for him to return to her and expect her to take care of him after avoiding her calls for a week anyway. He also knew it wasn’t fair if he kept using her to keep his life normal. 

It was time to accept that he wasn’t happy. He had faced the scariest thing that he was ever going to face in his entire life … _twice_. He had apparently looked at death in the face too.

He couldn’t go back to his life before. But what was he going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also link: [Richie's dumbass cactus shirt](https://imgur.com/a/SDXc1NC)


	3. Get Real, Dude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Eddie needs Richie to be there for while he’s healing, Richie has needed someone in his life to make him feel less alone. 
> 
> Warnings: past drug abuse, Big Talk about suicide attempts and as always, poorly placed jokes.

_But there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  
_ _And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.  
_ _Get over your hill and see what you find there._

\- Mumford & Sons

* * *

Really, the daily stops at Starbucks weren’t just to be a total asshole. At some point over the past couple of years, Richie had replaced his daily use of drugs with an increase of caffeine and sugar. On one hand, that wasn’t exactly healthy, but on the other, which was _really_ worse? They served coffee at NA and AA meetings for a reason. He stirred the contents of his cup, making sure the vanilla (4 pumps) was properly mixed with his espresso (2 shots). If he was going to drink the shit every day while he was here, he was going to absolutely bounce off the walls.

As he walked outside, he looked up at the hospital across the street. A heavy sigh left him and he sipped before he walked across the street.

Eddie was doing really well, but Richie couldn’t help the feelings that was still eating away at his insides. He was afraid that he would come back and Eddie would be worse. Or dead. He rationally knew that wasn't likely to happen, but the image just wouldn't leave his brain. In the deadlights, he _had_ seen Eddie die down in the sewers. Those images and the things that had really happened wouldn't stop cross contaminating in his mind, making everything worse. He was fucking tired, not sleeping, because he kept dreaming about _everything_ , about Henry Bowers and that stupid fucking clown.

The espresso and sugary syrup was for the best.

Stan and Patty were already in Eddie’s room when Richie got there. Eddie had finally been moved from the ICU and more than two people were allowed inside the room. Eddie was smiling while he was talking with Patty, and Richie was content with staring at them from the doorway if that meant that Eddie was going to keep smiling like that. He knew that realistically he had only wanted Eddie again for about two weeks, but he felt the other twenty seven years every time he looked for too long.

“You feeling okay today, Eds?” Richie asked between conversation.

“I’m okay. I’m itchy though. It’s really, really annoying.” Eddie said.

“Tell me about it.” Stan said.

Everyone tried to act like it was normal that Stan had just made a reference to the cuts on his wrists. Richie mostly, maybe. After Stan mentioned it, he couldn’t keep his mind off of them while he stood in the doorway. Even as the conversation kept flowing, he just kept thinking about the pain that Stan and his wife had been caused by that demon clown. 

Ben and Bev showed up within the hour. They caught Richie at the vending machine getting Eddie a cherry coke (because Richie was ready to do just about anything that Eddie asked if it made him feel like even the slightest bit better). Richie waved at them.

“You okay, Richie?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, always. Why?” Richie asked.

“You look weary.” Ben said.

Richie snorted. “Okay, Robert Frost, get your ass in that room.” Richie put his hand on Ben's shoulder, walking with them, like he was Eddie’s personal assistant, responsible for escorting them into Eddie’s room.

Ben automatically went to Eddie’s bedside. “Eddie, I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Beverly started talking to Patty, which Richie thought was pretty cute.

Richie opened the bottle of soda for Eddie, who thanked him quietly between his back and forth with Ben.

After that, Richie stood back and watched them all for a moment before his eyes fell on Stan again. Talk about someone looking weary. “Hey Stan, you wanna walk across the street to the store with me?”

“Why do you need to go to the store?” Stan asked. He was getting up despite the suspicion in his voice.

“Stuff?”

Even though Richie knew what he wanted to talk to Stan about, he was shit at actually talking about something seriously. That was probably where a lot of problems in his life had stemmed from, come to think of it. He wasn’t there to give himself a mental therapy session. He was there to actually give Stan some kind of support. He was pretty good at listening, but prompting someone to talk was the part that sucked.

No one had tried to talk about what happened to Stan since the first night at the Jade of the Orient. They all thought that Stan wasn’t coming, but Stan had appeared around the corner just in time for the fortune cookies. “Turns out I made it to the party after all, asshole.” Stan had said before he stomped one of the creatures that had crawled out of the fortune cookies. Thinking back on that, it was pretty badass. Stan made a grand entrance and then after the commotion when they were outside in the parking lot, he told them he tried to kill himself. 

Richie and Stan stepped outside of the hospital into the bright, sunny August day. It was getting hotter by the moment. The saving grace was the breeze that passed by, ruffling the leaves of the tall oaks in the small stretch of grass between the hospital and the parking lot. Richie watched as one of Stan's birds flew between the two trees.

“So I didn’t need to go to the store.” Richie said.

“No shit.”

“I just wanted to let you know, if you need to talk about it, I’m your guy.”

Stan stared at Richie for a pause, likely trying to figure out what kind of cruel joke that could be. “You’re serious.”

“You wanna go sit?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Stan said.

They sat down on a bench between the oak trees. Stan’s brow was furrowed as he sat, like he still didn’t believe that Richie could possibly say anything that was helpful.

Richie was playing with the straw in his drink, leg jiggling. “You care if I smoke?” He asked.

Stan shrugged his shoulder. “Guess not. Since when do you care?”

Richie shrugged his shoulder back. He pulled a pack from the pocket of his shirt and put a cigarette between his lips. He took a long draw before he started talking. “I always had this super ridiculous good luck. It felt like I was always in the right place in the right time to get successful." Richie tried to explain. "But there was always something off about it. Like no matter how happy I should have been, there was always something looming, something unfulfilling." He took another puff on his cigarette. “But yeah, aside from the looming feeling of general unhappiness, I’ve always had this nasty little voice in the back of my head saying all these awful things about me.” He admitted. “I thought it was all my own personal self-loathing, which is bad enough on it’s own, but I think the voice was It. At least partly. I think that It was always after us, even when we weren’t in Derry. It was always trying to get rid of us.”

Stan’s expression changed into something like he was considering what Richie was saying, or Richie had a feeling that Stan already knew what he was talking about. Stan stayed quiet, waiting for Richie to go on.

"Sometimes things got really bad. I was coked out pretty much every day. Or drunk. But one day, It was definitely in my head. And maybe it was memories or something else. I’m still not sure. That night was different. I thought about - I mean, I wanted to … ” Richie trailed off. 

“You thought about killing yourself?” Stan asked.

Richie nodded slowly. “Well … that night was a fucking disaster. I fell down and fucking hit my head, which is actually pretty funny.” Richie grinned. He looked up at Stan, who wasn’t smiling. Richie wiped the smile off his face, shaking his head. “Or it’s not funny. But either way, _that_ happened. My manager took me to fucking rehab. So I spent like six months in that bitch. I’ve been clean for two years though.” Richie flicked the ashes off of his cigarette. "I mean, I've been drinking since I got here, but _fuck_."

“I knew about your trip to rehab. Thought it would be impolite to bring up.” Stan said.

“What? How could you have?” Richie asked. “Unless you were a _fan_.” 

Stan rolled his eyes. “I’m not really a fan of people who don’t write their own jokes when I know they’re smarter than that. I like your early material though.”

Richie made a face. “How do you even know that?”

“I used to watch your stuff sometimes.” Stan said.

“Really?” Richie asked. “You remembered me?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” Stan said with a little smile. He shifted a little uncomfortably. “Thanks for telling me that stuff. Makes me feel less - _something_. Crazy? I don’t know. I haven’t worked out what yet.”

Richie nodded, watching Stan carefully. “If this is something else. If it’s _you_ and not It, you can tell me. I won’t make a dumb distasteful joke about anyone’s mental health aside from my own.”

Stan just looked at him again in disapproval.

“I’m sorry. You know I’m not very good at being serious.” Richie said.

“You’re not good at being _real_. This is the most real you’ve been with me since you’ve been back in Maine.” Stan said. “I know it’s hard to talk about. I’m glad you got some kind of help with your drug problem, Richie. It probably helped you with whatever was going on in your head.”

“It was a relief when I figured out that It had been fucking with my mind without me even knowing. I’m only like ... half as fucked up as I thought I was.” Richie said.

“You know what, yeah. I agree.”

“Holy shit, did you just agree with me? Like for real?” Richie asked.

“For real.” Stan said with a familiar smile.

Richie was grinning again. He had missed these guys so much and didn’t understand how he had actually survived without them.

“What you were saying about the looming feeling ... I've always been happy, but maybe it was a feeling like something could go wrong? Or something was off?" Stan shook his head. "Maybe it was just that I didn't remember you guys all the time."

"It's weird that you even remembered us at all." Richie pointed out. "I didn't remember a fucking thing until Mike called."

"I know." Stan shook his head. "I don’t really want to talk about me.” Stan decided. “I hope that you’re right and most of what has messed us up over the years was It. I don’t want to die yet.”

Richie put his hand over where Stan’s was resting on the bench. “Me either.”

Stan turned his hand over and squeezed. “Let’s keep a check on each other when we leave?”

“Yeah, for sure. All of us probably should.” Richie added as an afterthought. “Group chat!"

“Ugh, those are so fucking annoying.” Stan said.

Richie was satisfied with that for the moment.

“Since you’re opening up with me already … “

“ - Oh fuck, here we go.” Richie pulled his hand away from Stan's.

“ … I think it’s time that you tell Eddie how you feel about him.”

Richie ducked his head, forehead in his palm. He sighed heavily before looking back up at Stan. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Stan asked.

“He’s married.” Richie said. “I’m a piece of garbage, but not that big of one.”

“So you think there’s potential that he feels the same way.” Stan said with a hint of a smirk.

“I mean, I guess it seems … tangible. I also bullshit myself a lot.” Richie said.

“It’s not bullshit.” Stan said firmly. “Richie, what’s the worst thing that could happen? He could say no, and then you could actually move on? I think you’re more scared of him saying he feels the same way.”

“I can’t.” Richie said. “He’s in the hospital all drugged up and shit.”

“Excuses.” Stan was looking at Richie so intently that Richie almost had the urge to look away. “It actually kind of hurts to see you believe that you don’t deserve happiness.” 

Thank god for Patty, because Richie didn't have to respond to that. She was approaching them from across the grass. Richie waved at her, swallowing back the lump in his throat.

“Hey.” Stan said. “Sorry we were gone so long. Richie was talking a lot.”

“I was being nice.” Richie said defensively. He put his cigarette out, because for some reason he didn’t think Patty would appreciate it very much.

“Is everything okay?” Patty asked. She took a seat and put her hand on Stan’s back, rubbing a little.

Richie smiled at the gesture.

“Yeah, babylove.” Stan put a gentle hand on her knee. “Richie’s just got to sort through his emotions.”

Patty raised her eyebrows. “Is this about Eddie?”

Richie’s mouth gaped open. “Does everyone know about this?”

“Maybe if you’d keep your eyeballs in their sockets when you look at him it wouldn’t be so obvious.” Stan said.

Patty elbowed Stan lightly. “No, Stan just mentioned it to me.”

Richie grumbled something under his breath and into his straw about Stan being an asshole.

//

While Richie and Stan had gone to talk, Eddie got to see Ben and Beverly for the first time since he’d been in the hospital. He and Ben talked for awhile, Ben sitting close by his bedside. They were eventually laughing so hard that Eddie’s chest or ribs or something hurt. He started coughing, which made things worse, but he couldn’t stop.

“Geez, Eddie. I’m sorry.” Ben said, but he was also trying not to laugh still.

“It’s okay - stupid fuckin’ broken ribs.” He took a deep breath, but had to look away from Ben to stop himself from laughing. It was one of those contagious laughs, like when you got the giggles. Eddie had always liked making Ben laugh, because between all of them, he was the hardest to crack sometimes.

Eddie wished that he could say that talking to Bev was equally as entertaining, but her gaze was mournful before she even came over closer to him.

“Bev, what’s wrong?” Eddie finally asked.

Bev was looking at Eddie with tears in her eyes. When she came closer, Eddie could see that she had one stream of a tear down her cheek. Eddie had the overwhelming urge to reach up and wipe it away, but his range of motion wouldn’t allow it.

“Eddie, I’m sorry.” Bev said.

“What could you possibly be sorry for?” Eddie asked.

Bev's voice was quiet, almost inaudible when she spoke. “I handed you the iron rod. You used it and then you nearly got killed. I should've know - "

“It’s no one’s fault that I got hurt.” Eddie said firmly.

Bev nodded, quickly wiping her cheek. “Okay, okay.”

“Is that why I haven’t seen you up until now?” Eddie asked.

Bev didn’t look right at him, letting him know he’d guessed correctly without her saying so. Eddie did reach out for her hand. She took his hand and smiled, one of those brighter smiles that he remembered. Her hands were soft and warm, and the squeeze made Eddie feel warm inside too.

"Hey, I'm okay." Eddie said.

Bev nodded.

“What are you guys going to do when you leave Maine?” Eddie asked, deciding a subject change was in order.

“Going south, man.” Ben said.

Bev smiled over her shoulder at Ben. “We’re going on a nice, long road trip.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. Eddie's initial instinct said that there was something between them when they walked into the room. He knew that Ben had been crushing incredibly hard on Bev when they were young. Everyone knew. But for things to have actually worked out between them, for them to be together after all of this shit? It was an incredible thought. His expression softened into a smile. He was happy for them. They deserved happiness. Although his face fell a little as he wondered if he deserved that kind of happiness. If he could ever face his feelings for Richie. 

"Well-deserved." Eddie added. They did deserve it. They all deserved a fucking break after this. What was going back to life going to be like after this for any of them? Eddie knew his wasn't going to be the same.

“What about you Eddie?” Ben asked, as if he could read Eddie's mind.

“I’m - “ Eddie tensed. Bev could tell he did because she started brushing her thumb against the back of his hand. “I’m figuring it out.”

“Is everything okay?” Bev asked, genuine concern on her face.

Eddie took in a deep breath and winced because it kind of hurt. “I’m not sure yet.”

“If you need anything, you know we’ve got your back.” Ben said.

"Anything." Bev added.

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” Eddie smiled.

Burdening any of his friends with his problems didn’t seem fair. Asking for their help wasn’t an option. Although, Eddie wasn’t entirely sure _what_ his options were.

Realistically, he had money to find a place to rent, but the nurses were saying that he needed someone there with him. Also, after these hospital bills and the lack of an income (Eddie was fairly sure that he’d been fired from his job, considering he told them he’d be in touch and it had been over a week since he'd talked to his boss) Eddie was getting a little scared of what his financial situation would really look like. Not to mention what divorce would cost and what he would owe Myra in the divorce. Because divorce was the obvious thing to do. It was only the fair thing to do for her and for himself.

.

Once Ben and Bev left, Richie was back inside the room and filling the silence with his bullshit. Their conversations always flowed easy, even if they included Eddie scolding Richie for something that he found mildly annoying (and maybe mildly charming). Richie was so good at picking which things set him off, Eddie wondered if he did it on purpose. Now that he was thinking about it, he wondered that sometimes when they were kids too.

Richie was now rambling on about how he was going to have 'The Richie Trashmouth Tozier Comeback Tour.' Eddie supposed it was rude of him to rolls his eyes, but Richie was making a stupid voice while he talked about it instead of being serious. If that was what Richie really wanted, Eddie would've been in full support. He couldn't tell what Richie really wanted. He was all surface level right now.

"You gonna come to my first tour date, Eds?"

“Since I’ve got some stranger blood pumping through my veins, I guess anything is possible.” Eddie replied.

“It's my blood, not stranger blood.” Richie said.

Eddie stared at Richie for a moment, feeling very weird and embarrassed that Richie had done that for him. He felt like he owed a thank you to him, but that also felt weird. “God. Is this like when you get someone’s liver and start speaking Spanish because they spoke Spanish? Because I _don’t_ want to start spouting offensive jokes and bad accents.”

Richie readjusted himself in his seat. “My jokes are not offensive.”

“That shit that you spout on stage is not tasteful. If you get your Comeback Tour, please promise to stop saying stupid shit.”

“You’ve watched my material?” Richie asked. He was looking a little too smug about it though.

“Yes, and it’s ... Richie, I'm serious, it's not you.”

“But you’ve watched it.”

Eddie didn’t want to say that after he’d gotten that phone call from Mike, he sat in the airport looking up all his old friends on Facebook between hitting the ignore button on Myra’s calls. He didn’t want to say that he frantically watched videos on Youtube when he had figured out that Richie was famous. He didn’t want to say that he could tell after about ten minutes that Richie didn’t write his own material.

“I was going to say thanks for the blood, but considering your ego is swelled enough, I don’t think I will.” Eddie decided on.

“It’s fragile though.”

Eddie tried not to smile at him. He tried to look like he was disapproving of Richie’s words, but he couldn’t.

“So I’ve got my Comeback Tour and my Netflix special to look forward to ... ”

Eddie interrupted him with a loud tut. He knew that Richie had it in him to have those things, but if the content wasn't going to change, Eddie was going to be disappointed.

“What are your big plans when you get healed up?” Richie asked.

It was Eddie's own fault. Richie had no way of knowing he was internally freaking out at the idea of getting out of the hospital, but he was still annoyed at the question. It made him anxious. Eddie always had a plan. His life was always the same. Not knowing what he was going to do made him feel panicky when he thought about it for too long.

“I … I don’t really _know_.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Richie asked. He was looking concerned. He could probably read the panic on Eddie's expression.

“Well, I’ve decided that I can’t go back to New York.” Eddie tried to say casually, but it sounded more like a weird dramatic _longing_ of a statement rather than a face.

“Why? Because living in NYC is literally like living in hell?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, because LA really has less qualities of the typical hellscape.” Eddie said. “Anyway - no. I’m done with that part of my life.”

“Is it because your job is the most boring thing on the entire planet and now that you’re a hero you want to do something exciting?” Richie asked.

Eddie let out an exasperated sigh. “Not exactly.” 

“Then what’s up?” Richie asked.

Eddie was quiet. Was he supposed to explain to Richie everything that he'd been thinking about over the past few days? His life was complete and total bullshit. He had been totally content with being unhappy. He hadn't really realized how unhappy he was until now.

Richie was oddly patient with the silence. It did make Eddie want to _try_ to explain himself some. “I’m supposed to have someone stay with me while I’m recovering." Eddie said carefully. "I haven't talked to my wife since I've been in Maine. She doesn't even know what happened to me. I know that it would be incredibly shitty of me to expect her to take care of me after this." Eddie hesitated. "And aside from that, I just don’t want to go back.”

Richie was looking contemplative, but not too judgmental. At least, Eddie hoped Richie wasn't judging him. Richie was the last person he wanted thinking he was a bad person.

“You could stay with me.” Richie said.

“I - I can’t fly on an airplane like this.” Eddie replied immediately, as if that wasn’t the only reason he couldn’t just up and go stay with Richie. “Also, I just described Los Angeles as a hellscape.”

Richie was quiet again.

Eddie knew he was trying to come up with a solution, or he was going to say something else dangerously tempting. There were already fantasies of staying with Richie playing in Eddie’s head and those were dangerous enough.

“And anyway - " Eddie went on. "I can’t actually ask you to be my fucking in house nurse.” Eddie was almost getting sick to his stomach at the thought. He didn’t want Richie to _take care_ _of him_. Ugh. He didn’t want to be taken care of. He didn’t want Richie to be the next person in his life deciding what was best for him so he could hate Richie too. Or worse, Eddie becoming such a burden to Richie that Richie started to hate him. 

_We’re going to leave you too._

And then, Richie _did_ say something dangerously temping.

“My parents have a lake house in Vermont. We can stay there.”

Staying with Richie. Living with Richie in some beautiful lake house in Vermont while he recovered. It wasn’t like he had that many options. It would really help him get his shit together if he had somewhere to stay. Eddie was getting better at walking. He could use the actual bathroom by himself (thank the fucking lord, that had been one of the most embarrassing parts of this whole thing). He was almost done with the antibiotics for the infection (gross). He could eat some real food again. Really, Richie would only be there to babysit him.

But he couldn’t ask Richie to do that, could he? He couldn’t ask Richie to put his life on hold just so that Eddie wasn’t alone.

A part of him had a feeling that it would be good for Richie not to be alone either.

“What about your comeback tour?” Eddie asked. He knew that Richie was bullshitting when he talked about that, but still. Richie had a career that he needed to get back on track. He had things to work toward. He had a house, a _life_. Eddie felt like he was literally rebuilding his own.

“It can wait.” Richie said.

“What about your life in LA?” Eddie asked.

“I needed a break.”

"Why?"

Richie let out an exasperated noise. He stood up from the seat he'd been in and started pacing the floor. "You're not the only one having seconds thoughts about your entire life, dude." Richie said finally.

"Wait, what's going on with you?" Eddie asked. "If there's something going on, you can't put your life on hold - "

"You fucking _died_." Richie turned to look at him with eyes wide. His hands were out at his sides, a little shaky.

Eddie went silent.

"Everything that happened - I can't stop thinking about it." Richie sputtered out, sentences short and choppy. "I have to _do_ something or I'm going to lose it. Please, let me help you. I can take care of you and - ”

“I don’t need you to fucking take care of me!” Eddie burst out. He didn't mean to yell, but he absolutely did. He didn't want Richie thinking that he was obligated to do anything. “I’ve been taken care of for my whole life. I never needed it. I don’t want you to have to watch over me like - like I’m a fucking kid again. Too sick to run in gym class. Too sick to go on the field trip. Too sick to come to the birthday party. I feel like I'm there all over again and it’s fucking embarrassing.”

Richie was uncharacteristically quiet _again_.

“What?” Eddie spat.

"Eddie, being injured and being sick isn't the same thing. You need someone to be there for you. I want to do that."

Eddie sighed softly. “I'm sorry. I just ... I want to be clear that I don’t want to be babied. I _don’t_ want to be asked if I’m okay. I _don’t_ want help unless I ask.” Was Eddie really spouting off demands like he was agreeing to this?

“Okay.” Richie was serious and Eddie didn’t know how to handle how serious he was. “I won’t do anything to overstep. I’ll just stay with you to make sure you’re okay and that nothing bad happens. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine.” Eddie said.

Richie sank back in his chair, a satisfied expression settling over his features.

//

Richie called his dad that night. He was dreading the conversation, considering he hadn’t really had a conversation with either of his parents since way before rehab. He had stayed in contact mostly through his sister, Jessica. He had texted his parents some, but his dad was horrible at texting. He knew a phone call was necessary for this. Especially considering he had already told Eddie that this was a _sure thing_ and it wasn't.

The relationship that Richie had with his parents was strained now. That was his own fault for the most part. Once Richie had turned eighteen, he sort of hit the road and didn't look back. He hated Derry so much that he allowed himself to associate all the awful things that had happened in that town with his family. Even when they had also left Derry, Richie didn't bother with visiting them as much as he should have. He regretted not staying in touch.

He and his dad were okay though. They always had a good relationship. Wentworth Tozier was more like Richie when it came time to express emotions - he just didn’t do it. And that was fine by Richie. His dad wasn’t cold by any means. He was good at talking about everything else, personable. He had a hint of Richie’s sense of humor, and Richie was fairly certain that was where his own derived from. His dad always did give his voices and jokes a laugh. He and his dad had bonded over music and they watched tv together. It was just that Wentworth was the man of the house and _men don’t do all that sappy, sentimental stuff. That was for girls and sissies._ That was something that men were instilled with for some unnecessary reason. Richie was often emotional underneath his loud jokes. He cried a lot, when things were happy, when things were sad, at the end of movies and sometimes for no reason at all. Richie had never seen his dad cry. He'd barely ever seen his dad get mad, even on Richie's worst days.

Richie and his mom were a different story. Maggie Tozier never understood her son the way that her husband did. She tended to play the bad guy, getting onto Richie for his language and over-the-top behavior. She was more strict with Richie, harder on him, got mad at him a lot and had a hard time holding back how mad she really was. Richie understood better as an adult that his mother just wanted to the best for him. He always wondered if his mother actually _liked him_ though.

The conversation was with his dad though, thankfully. A painfully awkward conversation at first - Richie asking to stay in the lake house and trying to explain why he needed to in a way that made sense. His dad had agreed to giving him the keys more easily than Richie thought.

The worse part was his dad guilting him for not talking to them. The truth was that Richie didn’t really want to face the reality that he had worried his parents so badly. Richie half-way figured that he had been doing them a favor by disappearing, but it turned out, he hadn’t at all. His dad wasn’t prying though, just laid a little bit of guilt on him for worrying them so badly.

They agreed to a dinner and an exchange of the keys to the lake house.

Next, Richie hovered his finger over Mike’s contact. Was an over the phone apology appropriate? Probably not. Hopefully, Mike and Bill both knew that he was just stressed the fuck out and pissy. He guessed that it wouldn’t hurt him to apologize anyway. 

He made the call.

“Hello?” Mike’s voice came over the phone.

“Hey, sorry this isn’t in person, but I’m a prick. You’re not.”

“I could’ve told you that.” Mike said and Richie could hear the smile in his voice.

Richie laughed a little. “I’m sorry.” He said seriously. “Everything that happened - it’s not your fault. If anything, it's Bill's fault for making us promise.” He was kidding.

“It’s okay, Richie.”

"Seriously, after everything we've been through, I can't stand you thinking I'm upset with you." Richie said. “We’re good?”

“We’ve been good, man. We always will be.” Mike said.

“You think Bill feels the same way?” Richie couldn’t help asking.

“Of course he does.”

//

“Today’s the day, Eddie.”

Despite the fact that he wasn’t particularly thrilled at the prospect of being left in _anyone’s_ care, Eddie felt really relieved that he wasn’t going to be stuck in that room anymore. He was also ... looking forward to being with Richie. He couldn't believe that he'd agreed to this. He was going to stay in a lake house with Richie while he recovered. It sounded like a Hallmark movie or something and Eddie was already embarrassed about the whole thing.

Linda had already shown Richie how to change Eddie’s bandages. Eddie was mortified that Richie had to look at his disgusting wound. Richie never complained once, also seemed to be taking his instructions very seriously and only made one Mummy joke, which even Eddie laughed at. At least Richie changing his bandages would be the worst of it.

Linda was going over Eddie's rules. “You will be able to shower in forty eight hours. You still need to keep your wound bandaged until you come back. We’ll reevaluate that during your next visit. Three weeks, Eddie. We recommend that you walk with the walker, try to do the minor exercises that we gave you. No physical exertion for three weeks. No sex for three weeks. Don’t drive until you’re finished with the pain medication. Your prescriptions will be ready at the Walgreens on Oak Street. Give them a call when you’re settled in to your new place if you need to get prescriptions there.”

Eddie took in all that information. Basically, he could shower in two days and couldn’t do anything else until he came back for his check up. And he would kind of miss Linda.

“Yeah, Eddie, no sex.” Richie repeated.

Eddie glared at Richie, cheeks hot. Just when he thought the bandages were the worst of it. “Mature.”

.

The drive to the hotel was okay, only a little bit painful when Richie hit a pothole and bounced the car. Eddie was trying not to critique Richie's driving. He would save that for the road trip. In the mean time he just kept his mouth shut tight and tried to ignore the fact that he was feeling nauseous. 

When they arrived at the hotel, by the time they had made their way to Richie's room, Eddie was exhausted. He was sore and nauseous still. 

"I'm exhausted." Eddie admitted. 

“Take the bed.” Richie said.

“I can’t just hijack your bed.” Eddie said, exasperated. "I can get another room." He had the money to do that. He was really thankful for the fact that he’d been frugal and rigid with his spending, but he was really starting to wonder what his financial situation was going to look like. He did have a big savings account, but he wasn’t sure _what_ was going to happen when he finally called Myra.

“Don’t worry, it’s mostly clean. I had room service change the sheets yesterday and I didn’t jerk off in there. Can’t say the same for the shower.”

“You’re gross.” Eddie said, feeling his face getting hot. At least he was getting good blood circulation.

"Just use the bed to take a nap." Richie insisted.

"Fine." Eddie wasn't happy about it though.

He shut the door between the bed and sitting area. After an exhausting change of clothes for the second time that day, Eddie climbed beneath the sheets in Richie's hotel room. They smelled like Richie in a way that was pleasant and comforting, even if it was a little bit gross that Richie had probably sweat on the sheets and Eddie was laying in the sheets and who knew if the sheets were actually clean when they replaced them and when was the last time the mattress was sprayed down with disinfectant? Despite his mind racing on all the reasons why he hated staying in a hotel bed, Eddie was pretty drugged up still. He fell asleep with ease.

.

When Eddie woke, his feet were cold. He peeled the blankets away, feeling pleasantly rested but a little achey. He opened up his suitcase to look for socks. It took him entirely too long to put socks on and he was frustrated by the end of it.

"Morning sunshine." Richie said brightly when Eddie emerged from the room.

Eddie grumbled at him. “Is there a washer and dryer at the house?” He asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Richie said. “We’ll figure it out. Or go to the store. You know when I’m really lazy, sometimes I just go to the store and buy new underwear instead of doing laundry?”

Eddie really, really wondered if Richie just said stuff like that to fuck with him. “That’s more work than just doing laundry!”

“No it’s not.”

“It fucking is, Richie.”

Richie was grinning at him. Eddie still wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

“Mom texted and said that the utilities are officially back on.” Richie went on. "I'll text her about the washer and dryer situation."

“Oh my god, are we going to be living off of your parents?” Eddie asked, embarrassed.

“Eddie, it’s going to be fine. I'm covering all of the utilities.” Richie said.

Eddie wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with Richie paying for everything, but he was going to accept it.

"Everyone's asking about you." Richie said. "Told them you were grumpy."

"I am grumpy." Eddie snapped.

"Would it cheer you up to see your friends and order room service?" Richie asked.

"Maybe."

Bill had just picked his wife up from the airport, so he declined the invite. Bev and Ben promised they would see Eddie tomorrow.

Stan and Patty joined them in the room. They stayed to eat dinner and most of the conversation was Richie and Stan bickering. It was comfortable. It was nice. Eddie felt like he was at home.

Eddie quickly found out that he got tired very, very easily. He figured it was partly the drugs. Either way, by the time it was 9 o'clock, Eddie was ready for bed.

“I can sleep on the couch, it’s no biggie.” Richie said.

“Or we can share. It’s not like we didn’t when we were thirteen.” The difference was they weren’t thirteen. They were grown men. “ - I can’t argue about it right now. I have to get some sleep. Sleep in there with me or don’t. I don’t care. I have to change.”

There was a whole awkward moment where it really hit Eddie that he was going to possibly be sharing the bed with Richie. Eddie shut the door between the bathroom and Richie. He was hyper aware of the sexual implications about sharing a bed. Not that he could have sex if he wanted to, as Richie _knew_. Could his life be any more humiliating?

Eddie changed into his pajamas and it was taking him entirely too long. It felt nice to be in his own clothes again, even if he was about to sleep in a hotel bed - Richie’s hotel bed. He still hadn’t been allowed to shower though and sharing a bed meant being close and _oh god_. He didn’t want Richie to think he was gross. He had washed up earlier, best he could without actually getting into the shower. A second round wouldn’t hurt.

//

As Eddie had pointed out, they used to share the bed when they were kids, but even then, it had been a dangerous game for Richie. His chest would get all tight and he would feel sick and thrilled at the same time at the chance that they would brush against each other. The same feelings coming over him. He remembered one night when they were thirteen? fourteen? He had woken up with Eddie’s arm sprawled out over his chest. Richie had savored that touch, hadn’t dared disturb Eddie’s sleep. He had guiltily curled in closer and let the fingers of his own hand that was laying between them brush against Eddie’s stomach.

Richie stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt, climbing quickly into the bed before either of them could decide that this was weird. Eddie took forever getting into the room and climbing into the bed. Richie waited for Eddie to get comfortable before he dared to get comfortable himself.

“Happy?” Richie asked.

“No. These pillows are shit.” Eddie said.

“Worse than the hospital?” Richie asked.

“Yeah.” Eddie said.

Richie chuckled softly. “You all good otherwise?”

“I am.”

Richie glanced over at him. Eddie’s face glowing in the lamplight, deep brown eyes having a slightly golden hue to them with that warm lighting. His hair was laying in a way that was much too neat for someone who was getting ready for bed and hadn’t showered in days. He knew that not showering had to be driving Eddie crazy. Richie turned away quickly to turn out the lamp, trying not to stare like a weirdo. Trying to pretend that there wasn't something underlying there about two grown men sharing a bed together.

Richie typically knocked out hard once he was comfortable, but he was hyper-aware of touching Eddie. Mostly because Eddie was injured and he didn’t want to accidentally hurt him. Richie rolled to his side, facing Eddie. He could feel the warmth of Eddie next to him, craving the closeness. He didn’t care when Eddie had last showered. Richie curled in on himself to avoid any accidental touching.

He woke up once in the night. Eddie's ankle was hooked on his leg. His heart raced and he felt like he was fourteen with Eddie’s arm over his chest again. He couldn’t move, right? That would wake Eddie. He basked in the warmth of the accidental touch and drifted back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie is willing to drop everything to help Eddie because he’s been looking for a fresh start for years. And Eddie is willing to drop everything in his life because it literally flashed before his eyes and he didn’t like what he saw.
> 
> This story is about Richie and Eddie loving each other, but I want to address some of the issues that they have either already been working through or need to work through separately. In order to do that, they need support from each other and their friends. I love The Losers Club and cannot stop writing about their individual friendships.


	4. The Last Meeting of the Loser’s Club (for now)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the novel we never really get everything about Richie and parts are purposely omitted from his inner monologue. I wanted to explore the idea that with It dead, Richie is really learning to be honest, especially with himself.
> 
> Also, if you’ve never heard the song Big Balls by AC/DC I think you should hear it to know that Richie is just as mature as you believe that he is.
> 
> We all know that my favorite thing is writing dialogue, because with these guys it's just too good.

_Spoke out the things that you've worked out to be wrong  
_ _You got two hands to take all you can, but don't take too long  
_ _To be happy somehow  
_ _Are you happy now?_

 _  
__\- Wolf Alice_

* * *

Richie and Eddie started down the hall together. Eddie was going at a snail's pace with his walker, but Richie was trying not to do anything that might offend him. So he did his usual routine: picking on Eddie. He knew it was kind of selfish and stupid of him, be he always wanted Eddie's attention to be on him. He wanted to hear Eddie's voice go up an octave or see that crease between his eyebrows thicken. God. It was good.

“If you were going any fucking slower, I think the world would just start spinning backward.” Richie said.

“Fuck you! That’s impossible.” Eddie said, half-way gritting his teeth.

Richie smiled to himself.

They were on their way downstairs to Bill’s suite to have dinner before everyone had to leave. One last meeting of The Loser’s Club before everyone went back to their lives and moved on from Derry. It was the perfect time for Richie to get it out of his system. The first step to Richie Tozier being free from the torment of his inner monologue (part of which came in the form of a dancing clown and he hadn’t realized it), was announcing to his friends that he was gay. 

When Richie remembered Derry, he remembered The Losers Club. He remembered Eddie. He also remembered that Eddie was the first person he had ever loved. Maybe the only person, because Richie didn’t let himself have that. He had been back around Eddie for a couple of weeks, but he had been missing him for twenty-seven years and didn’t even know it. His heart ached with desperate longing that stemmed from so long ago that it shouldn’t have even been there anymore. His love for Eddie wasn’t just something that he was holding onto from back then. It was still there and the more time he spent with him, the more he realized that he was completely in over his head.

Even though the trauma and fears It was holding over The Loser’s heads didn't seem as scary after It was defeated, they were still there. As all of his memories from childhood returned, Richie figured out that at least half the reason he spent the last twenty-seven years in the closet was fear. Despite not remembering why he felt so scared, he had carried the fear with him. Richie also had an internal struggle with self-loathing and the idea that he didn’t deserve to be happy. Stan had really hit the nail on the head with that one during their little chat. Richie blamed it all on the homophobia, because the truth of the world was evil still lurked inside people. Richie figured that he was right to be a little bit scared.

Even so, that wasn’t _exactly_ Richie’s fear. _It_ was what Richie truly feared and he had just forgotten. 

He guessed that the others had fears like that. Fears that were overwhelming, pieces of the past that they couldn’t let go of no matter how hard they tried. If the conversation that he and Stan had was any type of proof, then yes. And the comforting part was that they had each other to confide those things in. 

The thing was, Eddie _had_ gotten hurt. He’d seen Eddie die in the deadlights. Then Eddie _had_ actually died for a whole two minutes.

But Eddie was out of the fucking hospital and he was walking down the hall in the hotel. He was struggling, but he was doing it. Eddie was the strongest person that Richie knew. Brave. Braver than Richie.

They’d spent part of the day together. He had shared Eddie with some of the other Losers, mostly Bill and his wife. Richie went to arrange his rental car situation and really, thought it might be better in the long-run if he just bought a car while he was indefinitely on the east coast. He didn't though.

Of course he would miss LA. He’d miss being in his own house. It wasn’t like he was never going back though. His manager had agreed that it was best that he stay off the radar. Richie was fine with taking a pause to reflect and refresh, all that lame sounding shit.

The Losers had survived It. Richie could feel _free_.

With It gone, what did Richie have to fear? He had looked true evil in the face. In the deadlights. He didn’t have to be scared. Like Stan said, all Richie had to be afraid of was rejection. Even that didn’t seem nearly as scary as it once had. He could _also_ tell Eddie how he felt. The timing was all wrong though. Eddie was still married. To like, a woman. Even if he wasn’t going back to that life, Richie wasn’t about swoop in like a huge fucking asshole. For the moment, he was just happy to have their friendship back and he could live with that. He was about to spend the next _however long_ staying with Eddie. Richie liked to think that he would have done this for any of his friends. He knew better.

For now, he'd go with one secret at a time.

Thank god that Bill’s celebrity wife would be at the final meeting of The Loser’s Club. Richie was pleased that introductions might be a good distraction for everyone from noticing that he had something on his mind until he was ready to say it out loud.

Once they were all inside, beer and take-out bags stacked on the tables and countertops, Bill was introducing them to _the_ Audra Phillips. “Everyone, this is Audra.” Audra’s smile was bright and warm. She was just as beautiful in person as she was on screen, rosy cheeks and shiny red hair. Bill tried to introduce each of them, and Richie was watching her try to take it all in. At least Patty had a chance to get used to them all separately before they were all thrown in the room together.

“It’s nice to meet you, Audra.” Bev extended her hand.

“From Rogan-Marsh!” Audra shook Bev’s hand excitedly. They were both smiling, like something passed between them that was all theirs.

“That's me.” Bev smiled proudly.

“Your clothes are like half of what I wear.” Audra said.

“Really?” Bev asked. “I thought Bill was just being nice when he told me that.”

“No, I love your clothes!”

“Thanks.” Bev smiled even more brightly.

“Goddamn, if I was ever a B-List celebrity, I’m down to a C-Lister for sure.” Richie said. “Nice to meet you, Audra.”

“Excuse Richie. He’s - ”

“A comedian, right? Richie Tozier?” Audra interrupted.

“Uh, yes.” Richie said.

“I’ve watched your stuff.” Audra said.

“Really?” Richie and Bill asked at the same time.

“How do you know everything about my friends before I do?” Bill asked her.

“You're pretty funny, Richie." Audra said, "Although, you could lay off on the misogynistic material. You can make sex jokes without talking about cheating on your girlfriend, ya know? I get that it's supposed to be a joke, but it's the twenty-first century.” Audra didn't seem to be shy about giving her opinion.

"Tell him, Audra." Bev said, holding up her hand for her to land a high-five. They both laughed.

"No offense." Audra added, but it didn't sound like she meant it.

"None taken. I don't write my own material." Richie said. "I also don't even have a girlfriend."

Ben was unpacking a blue plastic bag. It contained a bottle of whiskey and plastic shot glasses. He sat them on the coffee table. “Who wants a shot?” He was setting the plastic miniature red solo cups out for shots.

“What the fuck is this? A frat party?” Richie asked. “But yeah, please, before I get any more critiques.”

"Don't tell me you've never heard some one say that your jokes are offensive." Mike said.

"That's what I've been saying." Eddie added.

"Alright, alright. Fuck." Richie said. "Notes taken."

"Anyway ..." Bev sat a bottle of vodka down on the table next to Ben's whiskey. “Or you guys could have _the better choice_.”

Ben made a face, stuck his tongue out. “Gross.” But Ben grinned at Bev and the way they looked at each other was so cute. It made Richie look at Eddie as his stomach twisted with longing.

“I’m on Bev’s side.” Patty said, reaching for a shot glass.

“What the fuck? Are you all going to get drunk while I have to sit here and deal with your shit sober?” Eddie asked.

“You're on pain pills, baby. You’re _not_ sober.” Richie said. “You will arguably have the best fucking buzz out of all of us.”

"C'mon, Audra, be the deciding factor. Which is better, whiskey or vodka." Ben was trying to include her, and that was such a Ben thing to do.

“I don’t really drink that much. I used to be a vodka girl though.” Audra said and Bev cheered. “But like, no judgement from me. You guys go for it.”

“The fuck? You’re like a _real celebrity_ and you don’t drink? How do you cope?” Richie asked.

Audra shrugged. “With lots of spa trips and weed.”

Richie was becoming more and more thrilled with Audra’s presence. He threw his head back and laughed.

After the shots were poured, they cheered to being losers.

“Alright, we’re basically partying, right? We need _music_.” Richie said, pulling out his phone. Some things just didn't change, because Richie had always been the one to interrupt their quiet summer days by turning on his radio. “I’m playing shuffle roulette on my music right now. It’s a dangerous game.”

“You better have more on there than Bowie and The Cure.” Bill said.

“What the fuck? David Bowie is _good_.” Richie said. “Also, you underestimate how much music I actually listen to.”

“Name something that came out this year.” Eddie said.

“One Direction?”

“One Direction broke up this year.” Ben said.

“See I knew that was relevant somehow.” Richie said.

“How do you know that, Ben?” Bev asked, grinning at him.

“I use the internet? Literally all over the place.” Ben said, face red.

Richie had his finger hovering on the play button. “Okay, I’m getting ready to hit shuffle. Put in your bets now.” A guitar chord came over the speakers and Richie grinned even wider. Everyone groaned, aside from Audra and Patty who exchanged looks.

“Richie played this song so much that he broke his AC/DC tape.” Mike explained to them.

"Oh, don't act like you didn't entice him half the time." Bill said.

"Hey man, Richie knows his rock n roll." Mike grinned.

Richie couldn’t deny himself a chance to mimic Bon Scott, especially not when he was singing _Big Balls_.

“Please god, no.” Eddie said.

“Is this a real song?” Patty asked.

“Unfortunately.” Stan replied, but he was grinning.

After an obnoxious run through the chorus, Richie laughed and turned down the music some. “Couldn’t have planned that shit any better.” He reeled himself in because as much as he loved being the center of attention, this was about all of them and he was being too much. Aside from that, he was really going to have to have big balls if he was going to come out.

.

Sounds of laughter and clinking bottles filled the room. Liquor bottles and crushed beer cans were scattered on the tables. Music hummed quietly in the background from Richie's phone. The room was full and so was Richie's heart. Bill, Audra and Ben squeezed on the couch, Bev half sitting on Ben's lap, and Mike sitting on the arm of the couch. Stan and Patty were in chairs around the table with him, turned slightly so they could all see each other. Eddie's chair was closest to him, and one of Eddie's outstretched legs was dangerously close to brushing Richie's.

Eddie looked worlds away from where he had been last week. His cheeks had color in them, his eyes were bright as he laughed. Richie looked past him, smiling at Stan and Patty, who were holding hands over the table.

Richie was surprised at himself for staying fairly quiet. He was kind of zoning out, trying to hype himself up. And it was Bill who pointed out that he was being quiet, that mother fucker and his hot wife.

“Richie. You didn’t even laugh at that.” Bill said.

“Yeah, what the fuck’s wrong with you?” Eddie asked.

“Maybe Bill’s not that funny.” Richie said, but he grinned.

“You’re not that funny either.” Bill said. "As Audra pointed out."

Audra made a face. "You're a lot funnier in person."

Richie laughed, because Bill shot him a smile that felt so goddamn nostalgic that Richie could have cried. He had still never apologized for being a prick, but there was Bill, being fucking Bill.

“Okay.” Richie cleared his throat, hands clutching the arms of his chair. “I uh, there’s something I want to tell you all.”

Richie tried not to look at all the expectant faces of his friends (and their wives, fucking Christ), scattered throughout the room. Richie caught another look at Stan who was smiling. So Richie nodded and stood up.

“Wow, I talk to audiences full of people all the time and fuck, this is making me nervous.” Richie said and sucked in a deep breath. “You know, it seems like you guys are the only ones who really get me. When we were kids, you didn’t care that I was weird as fuck and did shit just to be the center of attention. Which is all still true, I’m obviously eating this up right now and you guys are letting me.” Richie grinned a little when he got a few chucks from that. He shook his head. “I have a hard time being real and honest with myself, and I’m trying really fucking hard to let that go. Being in Derry, being different seemed like a burden. More than that, sometimes it seemed like a fucking death wish. I was ashamed and scared, but now — well, now there’s not really anything to be afraid of. I’m ready to just fucking say it out loud. I’m gay.”

There was a wash of relief that came over him while actually saying it out loud. He let out a heavy breath, then swallowed hard as he waited for the laughing to start. His heart was pounding a million miles per hour. No one said anything, but it wasn’t an awkward or uncomfortable silence. Still, Richie filled it. “I just wanted to … to say it. Make it feel real. Make it feel normal. My whole life I've desperately tried to hide who I am. I mean, being gay doesn’t like define my whole life, but it’s a part of me and … I thought since you guys already get me better than anyone ever will, it was something worth sharing.” 

Richie’s chest felt tight. He had it all back and maybe he’d lost it in an instant. Maybe that was the last weirdo straw for them all.

“So do we start the gay jokes now or is it too soon?” Stan asked to break the silence.

Richie let out the breath he’d been holding in. He grinned. "Lay it on me."

“I knew you liked riding on the back of my bicycle and holding onto me when we were kids.” Bill said.

“Okay, that's not funny. That’s just a blatant lie.” Richie rolled his eyes.

“When we got back here, you were eyeing me on night one.” Ben added. “You called me hot.”

“Is Haystack really roasting me right now? Ben fucking Hanscom has your chucks right here fellas.” Richie was laughing through his words.

“Richie, we don’t care.” Mike said after a moment of laughter.

“Actually I do.” Stan said. The room was silent. Richie looked over at Stan and his heart sunk so fast that he felt like he was going to throw up. “I care that all of you were too fucking oblivious to notice that Richie’s practically flaming.” Stan grinned.

The rest of them laughed loudly. Except for Patty who said, “Stanley! That isn’t very nice.”

Stan was standing up and throwing his arms around Richie, giving him a tight hug. Richie was feeling a little teary-eyed.

"I'm proud of you." Stan said quietly before he pulled back.

"Flaming? _Really_?" Richie asked.

"I'm teasing you, Rich."

“No, no, wait a minute, wait a fucking minute - " Richie gestured toward Eddie. "If Eddie made this announcement, yeah sure it would have been obvious. Wouldn’t surprise anyone. But me?”

“What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?” Eddie asked.

“It means you used to listen to Whitney Houston like nobody’s fucking business when we were kids.” Richie said.

“I still listen to Whitney sometimes, so you can go fuck yourself!” Eddie said.

"Okay. Point proven." Richie said with a shrug.

“It all really makes sense. Richie’s obsession with Robert Smith was romantic.” Beverly said with a grin.

“Not the same point _at all_.” Richie said over the laughter.

Bev stood up. She moved over to Richie to pull him into a hug. "We're proud of you, honey." She said quietly.

"Thanks." Richie said, that emotion flaring back up in his chest and threatening to make him cry.

“My turn for a glaringly obvious announcement. Did you guys know that I’m black?” Mike asked.

Everyone burst out laughing.

“You know what? Fuck you guys.” Richie sat down. He was grinning and wiping under his eyes. “You all need to shut the fuck up because this is all very homophobic.” Richie laughed through the last of his words. Hearing all his friends laughing, it made him laugh more. They were all Losers. All weirdos. Nothing changed that. Richie was so incredibly relieved. 

As he sat there, laughing with his friends, he looked for Eddie’s gaze. Yeah, the jabs were badly placed longing. They always had been. Eddie’s eyes landed on him and Richie smiled. It was one of the special smiles that he saved just for Eddie. But when Eddie gave it right back to him, Richie felt warm.

Richie’s heart was light again.

“Alright someone pour me a fucking shot and let’s cheers to this shit.”

.

Each of them broke off into their own conversations, their own cheers - there was a particularly loud cheer when Bev announced that she was divorcing her husband. Music requests were made. Chairs and spots on the couch were exchanged. They were laughing together, sharing drinks and high-fives. 

“Gotta ask, Audra, how in the hell are you processing all this information?” Mike asked.

Audra was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, Bill next to her with long legs stretched out in front of him. Everyone was quieting and listening in on that particular conversation, wondering how much information that Audra actually knew. “About the killer clown?” She asked.

“Yeah. About the killer clown.” Mike said.

“I knew that Bill was crazy long before all of this.” Audra explained. 

“Thanks, babe.” Bill said. He put his arm around her shoulders.

Audra giggled softly, before she got serious again. “I meet this author who writes all these horrific stories, his intuition is always spot on, and he can practically feel everyone’s emotions in a room. I told him a long time ago he should take up Tarot reading or something.”

Bill laughed softly, shaking his head to dismiss all that.

“Wait, you think that Bill’s psychic?” Patty interrupted.

Audra nodded. “Something like that.”

“I think that Stan is too.” Patty said.

“Um? Deliberate.” Stan said.

“Stanley, come on. Your intuition brought us to Georgia. That decision changed everything in our entire life.” Patty said.

“That doesn’t mean I’m _psychic_.” Stan said.

“That’s not the only thing.” Patty said.

“Like what else?” Stan asked.

“Remember when you said that something wasn’t right that night we were going to go to dinner at that fancy restaurant downtown. So then we decided to just go to Olive Garden like we usually do, and the next day we saw in the paper that the place downtown was robbed?” Patty asked. Stan didn’t say anything. “You knew that something was wrong when your father went to the hospital before you got the call.” Patty added.

“This is the kind of stuff that Bill does all the time.” Audra said.

“Is it?” Bill asked. “I’m not sure … ”

“You said you stayed up late writing about a death for one of your characters in a novel the night before your father died.” Audra said.

Bill didn’t look like he was willing to argue that.

“Maybe that all has something to do with this clown.” Patty said.

“It’s the magic.” Mike said.

“Magic? Okay. That’s - that’s crazy, right?” Richie asked.

“Is it that crazy? Considering everything we know?” Mike asked. "Richie, you were with me when we did the Smoke-Hole ritual - "

"Which was _dumb as hell_ , looking back." Richie said. "What if we'd died in there? What was Bill going to do, go tell our parents we fucking died in the clubhouse because we smoked it up and sat in there?"

"But we had a vision." Mike said. "And Bill witnessed a version of that same vision."

"When you drugged me in your apartment." Bill added.

"Sorry."

"Yes, but you guys said you saw something that happened billions of years ago. That wasn't a prediction." Bev reasoned.

"I'm just saying that there isn't always a logical explanation for everything." Mike shrugged. 

“Well, this makes perfect sense in regards to Stan knowing I was gay.” Richie said. “Stan’s psychic. He was incorrect about me being … what offensive, homophobic term did you use? Flaming?” 

“It was a _joke_.” Stan said, rolling his eyes.

“Are we really going to say who has made the most offensive comments out of everyone here, Richie? Because I’m sure you take the cake.” Eddie said.

“You gonna bake me a cake if I take it?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, it’s going to say ‘Richie Tozier, biggest asshole on the planet’ in rainbow icing.” Eddie said.

“God, thank you for understanding.” Richie said.

“We’re trying to have a serious conversation.” Bev interrupted.

“I’m serious. That’s Richie’s power. He’s the biggest asshole alive.” Eddie said.

They laughed, even Beverly.

“Eddie gets off a good one.” Richie said. “Chuckalicious stuff.”

“Oh my god. _That’s_ embarrassing.” Eddie said.

“What? I’m coining that phase. It can be my new headliner.” Richie said. “ _Richie Trashmouth Tozier: Chuckalicious._ ”

“Didn’t you say that you were worried your career was in jeopardy?” Bill asked. “I’m pretty sure if you say that, your career will flat-out be over.”

“And Bill’s psychic.” Stan said, matter-of-factly. “I would know.”

“You guys are fucking mean. I hate it here.” Richie said.

“You walked right into that.” Bill grinned.

“Richie, your problem is that you can dish it, but you can’t take it.” Stan was grinning brightly.

“What the fuck? I can take it.” Richie said.

“ _Can you though_?” Eddie asked.

“Your mom can take it. Ammirite?”

Eddie hung his head and sighed.

“Anyway - What’s this about magic? I’m very interested, Mike.” Bev said.

“Ugh.” Richie was helping himself to another shot of Bev’s liquor. There was something about over-complicating this with some theory about _magic_ that made Richie wanna throw up.

“Well, for some reason, It was scared of us and not of anyone else.” Mike said. “That’s gotta mean something. The powers of the universe aligning or something. I don’t know about you guys, but when I was with you that summer, when we were all together that last time, it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

“I felt it too.” Bev said.

Eddie and Stan nodded in agreement.

“As far as that goes, I feel more whole right now than I have my entire life.” Mike added.

“Cheers to that.” Bill said.

Beers and glasses clinked. Even Richie's, who had to agree. He had never felt so comfortable than what he was feeling right now.

“After this, I’m going around the country to places I’ve never been. I want to study myths and hauntings. I’m going to find other places like Derry.” Mike said.

“Why the fuck would you want to do that?” Richie asked.

Eddie gently knocked his hand against Richie’s chest to hush him up. Richie felt his face heat up a little as they played handsies for a minute while Mike explained.

“Curiosity? To know what else is out there? To make sure we’re not all actually crazy?” Mike said.

“You and Bill should collaborate.” Audra said.

“We should.” Bill agreed.

“It is weird.” Audra said. “I really thought I knew everything there was to know about Bill, and then, he shows me this scar that wasn’t there the night before. He tells me about his brother and leaves the country. That was by far the craziest thing he’s ever done.”

“It must have been horrible.” Patty said. “Everything that happened to you all while you were so young.”

“We can call it magic or whatever we want, but we were all brought together because we were strong enough to endure it, but only together.” Bill said.

“Even when we thought we weren’t.” Stan said. Mike threw his arm around Stan’s shoulders.

“That night in the library, I was talking about when I broke my arm, I said, _you could still exist inside the pain, in spite of the pain._ ” Eddie said. “I think it’s about more than just physical pain. It’s about existing while there’s pain inside of us.”

“We’ve all had it rough. Here we are on the other side.” Mike said.

Richie felt like his insides were squirming. He didn't feel comfortable talking about it all so casually, like it was just a bad haircut or that someone dumped them at prom. It was fucking insane was what it was. He looked across the room for signs that any one else wasn't feeling so enlightened about the whole thing. Bev was picking at the label on her beer bottle. Ben was putting the whiskey bottle up to his lips.

“I think Audra and Bill should fit the check for all of our therapy.” Richie said, looking back around at Bill.

“I’m sure you have plenty of money.” Bill said.

“Yeah, being a shitty comedian doesn't really make me rich.” Richie said.

“Then why do you have a house in Beverly Hills?” Mike asked.

“First of all, it’s so weird that you even know that.” Richie said. “Who said I didn’t blow all my money on the house though?”

“That sounds right.” Ben chimed in. “Remember that time you blew your whole allowance on taking me and Bev to the movies?” 

“Yeah, dude. It’s called being _nice_.” Richie grinned.

.

Richie was feeling good and fairly drunk. He knew that he was supposed to be Eddie’s babysitter though, so he cut himself off. "Burping contest. Winner gets my last beer. Go.”

“I’m not doing that.” Ben said.

“If I even attempt to burp, I’ll vomit. I’m not kidding.” Eddie said.

“You can’t have it anyway.” Richie said toward him.

Mike _did_ burp and it was impressive. Then Richie tried to top him, but it didn’t go very well. He also thought vomiting could easily be in his future if he wasn’t careful.

“Can you guys be any more gross in front of mine and Bill’s wife?” Stan asked.

“Don’t ask that - you know they can.” Bev said.

Richie looked at Audra and then Patty, grinning guiltily. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I work with fourth graders all day.” Patty said.

“Was that … a sly dig?” Richie asked. “Damn, that was good.”

Patty giggled.

“These are the same guys that used to fart and hock loogies in front of me. No one’s sorry.” Bev said.

Audra belched loudly. In fact, it was impressively loud and impressively long. “And that’s just a coca-cola burp.” She looked very proud of herself for doing it too.

“Holy shit.” Richie handed the beer over. “Welcome to The Loser’s Club, hollywood.”

Audra was holding the beer like a trophy. “Oh, screw it.” She popped the top open and took a drink.

Richie got up from his seat to fist bump her.

.

“We have an early flight back to England. My manager is pretty fed up with me, so I’ve got to get back to work.” Bill said.

“Ugh, tell me about it. My manager is ready to drop me, I’m sure.” Richie said.

“Isn’t it sickening that these two have managers?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Stan said.

“I hate to break up the party, but … ” Bill trailed off.

“Someone had to.” Mike said.

“We have a flight tomorrow too.” Stan said.

“I’m really tired.” Eddie admitted.

“Wittle baby Eddie needs a nap.” Richie cooed.

Eddie threw a glare over at Richie. “I spent the last week asleep on and off, part of it unconscious. I get tired easily now. Sue me.”

Richie was just snickering. “I’m going to put the baby down for a nap.”

“Fuck you.” Eddie said.

Richie was disappointed that it was time for them to all part, but he tried to keep it all in. He was going in for his rounds of hugs. He cried a little when he pulled back from Bev’s hug and saw that she was crying though. 

Eddie broke his rules about lifting his arms and touching people. He was hugging Bill and his face was scrunched up like he was trying not to cry either.

“My turn with Big Bill.” Richie said. Bill stood in front of him with a lopsided smile, eyes glassy with tears. Richie looked at Bill, shaking his head. “Jesus, dude. I don’t know how I ever forgot you.” He pulled Bill into a deathgrip of a hug. “I’m sorry I was an asshole to you. We’re parting on good terms, right?” He pulled back to look at Bill.

“Of course we are. We killed that fucking clown together.” Bill said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been dying to write Richie coming out to The Loser’s Club. In the movie version of Richie, the big part of himself that he has been hiding is his sexuality. Richie’s story is heartbreaking. I wanted him to have a moment that he didn’t truly get to have.
> 
> As someone who has struggled with my own sexuality, It Chapter 2 just hit different, ya know? I want to make up for how fucking sad it really is.
> 
> Sorry about bringing up One Direction breaking up, but it's canon that Ben loves all boy bands.
> 
> That magic they all have? The Shining. I swear. I know it's supposed to be something about the macroverse and all that shit, but a simpler explanation from me is THE SHINE. Also, if I was creative enough I would write a connected series about Bill and Mike's adventures in cryptozoology and ghost hunting.


	5. It's Only Weird If You Make It Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie is having a big gay crisis about his sexuality and is overly curious about actually being able to discuss Richie’s own big gay coming out.
> 
> Warnings: internalized homophobia, really yikes thinking about the HIV/AIDs crisis

_Let me in the wall, you've built around_   
_And we can light a match and burn them down_   
_And let me hold your hand and dance 'round and 'round the flames_   
_In front of us_   
_Dust to dust_

_\- Civil Wars_

* * *

Eddie was trying very hard not to get nauseous on the elevator on their way back to the room. He guessed it was the pain medicine and that he wasn't used to eating so much. It was one of those things where he couldn't drink with everyone, so he kept "cheers"ing with french fries and soda. He didn’t want to lose his dinner, so he was focusing really hard on the grip that he had on his walker. He hated the walker so much, but right now it was his friend. Richie wasn’t really helping the situation because he was swaying a little in his drunkenness. 

Regardless, Richie asked, “You okay?”

“No.” Eddie replied quickly. He also didn’t want to throw up in front of Richie if he could help it, so keeping his mouth shut was for the best.

“Is there something I can do?” Richie asked.

“Shut up is what you can do.” Eddie couldn’t help snipping back at him.

Richie leaned back against the other side of the rail looking way too happy (and cute) for someone who was just told to shut up.

Eddie miraculously didn’t throw up. He was pleased that he made it to the room. Once he was still, he wasn’t feeling nearly as sick. “Sorry - I just didn’t want to throw up on you.” Eddie said quietly once they reached the room.

Richie laughed softly. “No biggie. Get some sleep, Mr. Grumpy Gills.”

Eddie was exhausted, so he didn’t have time to comment on the Finding Nemo reference. Eddie was too tired to sit up any more. It had been a little difficult to fall right to sleep the night before because he still had to sleep on his back. And he was hyper aware of sharing a bed with Richie. He managed to fall asleep almost immediately this time.

.

Eddie woke feeling refreshed and pleased that he couldn’t remember dreaming. When he realized that Richie wasn’t in bed, he turned a little to look at the clock on the side table. He unfortunately hadn’t stayed asleep for very long.

**12:16 AM**

He felt awake, despite the fact that it was a perfectly reasonable time to stay in bed. He maneuvered himself out of the bed, grunting when he pushed himself up. He was thirsty as hell. He peeked through the doorway, noticing the TV on. He tiptoed in to further inspect the situation.

“You're awake.” Richie said, smiling brightly from his seat on the couch.

“Thirsty.” Eddie said.

Eddie got himself a glass of water. He took a long drink, feeling a bit better. He peered over the glass, stopped to watch Richie for a moment. Richie was lounged, long limbs all spread out like a gangly starfish sticking to the corner of a fish tank. He’d taken off one layer and his t-shirt was riding up _just a little_ and Eddie really, really, really tried not to look at the trail of hair on his stomach. Richie was probably still half drunk and his glasses had slid down to the edge of his nose like he was someone’s fucking grandpa. Eddie should not have been attracted to him, but all that Eddie could think about was putting his hands on that sliver of skin that he was seeing.

And there was a possibility, right? Richie had openly admitted to like men. Which was something that Eddie had never, ever thought was a possibility. 

Richie looked back at Eddie, pushing his glasses back upright. “Hey, you sure about our sleeping arrangements?”

“Why?” Eddie asked. It was like Richie was in his mind, because he knew _why_. Richie was thinking about the same thing that he was: they were two men, one of which had admitted to being gay, and they would be sharing a bed together. Like Eddie had said the night before, they did all the time when they were kids, but now?

“I dunno.” Richie said.

“It’s not weird unless you make it weird.” Eddie was trying not to think about if it was weird. Eddie was struggling internally with his own sexuality. Just because they both liked men, Eddie was curious, and also apparently attracted to Richie, that didn’t mean that anything was going to happen if they shared a bed.

_No sex for three weeks._

_Yeah, Eddie. No sex_.

Eddie was mortified at even thinking that sex with Richie was a something that could happen, ever. Eddie knew the basic logistics of gay sex, but he wasn't entirely sure if that was something he wanted. He didn't know if he was ready to take a dick up his ass. Richie's dick. And now, he was thinking about Richie's dick. If anyone was making things weird, it was Eddie.

“I’m headed back to bed.” Eddie said, dismissing the desire to think about sex or anything else with Richie.

He was trying to get comfortable in his place in the bed again. He was in pain, more prominent than it had been in days. He had done a lot that day. He went to the store and sat in a lot of different chairs. As Eddie gritted his teeth to get comfortable, he realized that he’d been so tired that he’d forgotten to take his night time dose of medicine.

“Hey, Richie.” Eddie called.

“What’s up, Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie was in the doorway, leaning against the frame in an instant.

“You wanna grab my medicine out of the bathroom? And a glass of water? I forgot to take my pain pills.” Eddie said. "And don't call me that."

Richie did a salute with his hand before he went to gather what Eddie asked.

Eddie couldn’t believe that it was day two and he had already forgotten to take medicine. He usually took his nighttime medicine like clockwork - valium (for nerves and anxiety), hygroton (for high blood pressure), melatonin (to sleep, of course), zyrtec (allergies), vitamin A, B, C and antacids. Eddie realized that he hadn't taken any of that in over _a week_. He was panicking a little. He needed his inhaler. 

_They're placebos_.

Hey, Eddie had to say that he was a little proud of himself for not feeling like he _had_ to take medicine, even if he did actually need those damn pain pills right now. Part of him was afraid that being hurt was going to keep him in the same mind frame that he had always been in: he always needed to take medicine to feel okay.

“Here you go, Spaghetti-o.” Richie sat the glass down on the side table and put his new prescriptions in his hands.

“Thanks.” He was twisted off the top of one of the new bottles. "Also, don't call me that either. It's worse." He took the first pill with a swig of water. He went to take a drink to swallow his pills down and nearly choked when he looked up and Richie was taking his pants off.

Richie looked up at him from where he was bent. “This weird?”

Eddie shook his head. “Not any weirder then you usually are.”

Richie grinned. He kicked his pants into a crumpled pile near his duffle bag. Eddie resisted the urge to tell him to fold them like a grownup because he didn’t have time for that argument.

Even though Eddie was hyper-aware of every implication about sharing a bed with Richie, he knew it was because of his own personal struggles with his sexuality. It wasn’t because Richie was doing anything wrong.

“Hey, Rich.” Eddie said finally.

“Hmm?” Richie asked, pulling the blanket back to climb into.

“You drunk, man?” Eddie asked.

“A little, yeah.” Richie laughed softly. He sat instead of burying himself in the blankets like Eddie had already done. “What’s up?”

“Well, I want you to know that just because you’ve been uncharacteristically open about yourself, it doesn’t change anything. You don’t have to ask if I’m weirded out.”

Richie looked over at him, brows knit together and lips in a thin line. He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m glad for you.” Eddie said.

“Thanks.” Richie was grinning. “Eds, did you know you’re my favorite person?”

“Oh.” Eddie felt his cheeks heat up. “Why’s that?”

“You just are.”

Eddie smiled a little. Richie was smiling too. Their gazes lingered for an amount of time that Eddie thought was probably way too long.

“You have a boyfriend?” Eddie blurted out.

Richie looked at him funny again, then broke his gaze away. “No.”

“Why not?” Eddie asked. “Is it your crude demeanor and terrible jokes?”

“ _Wow_.” Richie laughed. “You really know how to make a guy feel fucking good. I take it back.”

“We're not letting the stage jokes go.” Eddie said.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about them, because my manager has me on a hiatus.” Richie was smiling though, despite the discussion of his career being put on halt.

“Um, yikes?” Eddie said.

Richie shrugged. “Told you it was cool.”

“I still haven’t called my boss. Old boss. I’m pretty sure I’ve not only been fired, but likely replaced.” Eddie added as an afterthought.

“Oh shit, I forgot you had a job to worry about. It’s so fucking boring my brain couldn’t even absorb it.” Richie said.

“Fuck you.”

Richie laughed under his breath.

“So, do you date people?” Eddie pressed on even though he really didn’t want to imagine Richie on a date with anyone, liking anyone, kissing anyone, having sex with anyone. He couldn’t help but wonder about it, in an insane jealous kind of way. It was bad, because not only was he jealous of the person that Richie was with in these imagined past scenarios, but also sort of jealous of Richie too for at least being with a guy like he wanted to be. Eddie knew that he was being ridiculous, but he couldn’t help the way that his mind worked.

“Oh my god, what the fuck is this? An intervention about my sad romantic life?” Richie asked through a laugh.

“I’m just curious.” Eddie said.

“I don’t know. Dating is complicated.” Richie was quiet for a pause. “Maybe. If it was the right guy.” He looked down toward his lap. “Pretty sure I’d suck at it. Y’know, bad jokes and crude demeanor.” He grinned back up at Eddie. 

“Yeah, well. You’re not all bad all the time.” Eddie said.

“Little ole me?” Richie asked, southern belle voice on.

“I take it back.”

Eddie glanced over at Richie to smile. Richie was looking at Eddie curiously, brows knit together and a slight smile.

“I want some advice on how to end up in one of these mysterious serious relationships. How’d you woo your woman?” Richie asked, eyebrows wiggling ridiculously.

“Not that eventful.” Eddie said quickly. “We worked together.”

“You must’ve been real cute in your sweaters with the collars underneath.” Richie said.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but blushed. “Fuck off.”

“How long have you been married?” Richie pressed on.

“Ten years.”

“How the hell do you stay married to someone for _ten years_?” Richie asked.

“We’re getting a divorce, remember?”

Richie laughed and Eddie didn’t. Then Richie did what he did best. He said the uncomfortable things like, “So the sex was good?”

“Ugh.” Eddie said, red in the face again. This wasn’t exactly the direction he was hoping that the conversation went. He didn’t know where he was hoping it went, but not there.

“Right, not good enough to have given her a call to let her know you’re alive. Much less actually go back to your marriage.” There was something in his voice that Eddie wasn’t familiar with, like he was judging Eddie for that, but there was something else underlying that Eddie couldn’t quite pick out.

“Stop.” Eddie said, feeling defeated by the comment.

“What?” Richie asked. “I’m just _asking_ about how the sex is.” 

Eddie didn't have sex often enough to speak of, even if he wanted to. Which he did not want to talk about the embarrassing, sad sex that he had with his wife, who he didn’t love. In fact, sex was something that Eddie tended to dread. It was something he had to plan for, talk himself into, that he did because he had to, because it was part of a healthy marriage. It wasn't something that he had ever really enjoyed when he was with Myra. He always heard people talking about how much they loved sex, all they thought about was sex, and Eddie thought that was pretty ridiculous. Or that there was something wrong with him.

“It’s sex.” Eddie said.

“I’ve heard of the concept once or twice.” Richie said. “I want details.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. He barely had details to give. How great was something you had to begrudgingly schedule? Something that he often said he was 'too stressed' to do even when it had been scheduled? Something that included exchanging bodily fluids?

“Sex is - it’s messy.” Eddie said.

Richie laughed. “I know. Dudes fuck each other in the ass, Eds. _That’s_ messy.”

“Don’t be so - ” 

“So what?” Richie pressed. “I’m just asking questions.”

“You’re always just asking a question or _just saying_.” Eddie was red in the face. “You seem to be an expert, so I don’t know why you’re asking me.”

“You think I’m a _sex expert_?” Richie asked quickly, almost cutting him off. He grinned wildly.

“I was being sarcastic.” Eddie said.

“Richie Sex Expert Tozier. Trashmouth on the streets, sex expert in the sheets.” Richie said in a ridiculous announcer's voice.

Eddie snorted a little at that. “You’re so stupid.”

“Yeah, I know.” Richie grinned.

“Well, if you’re a sex expert and not a dating expert, that doesn’t exactly add up.” Eddie pushed. He was very curious about Richie's sex life, so maybe it was only fair that Richie was curious about his. But it couldn't be for the same reasons.

“I’m a fucking rockstar, Eds.” Richie said, very seriously.

Eddie made a soft hum of a noise, dismissing the comment because that was the most Richie shit he had ever heard.

He didn’t want to think about Richie fucking anyone. He didn't want to think about if Richie did the fucking or if Richie was the one getting fucked. He didn't want to think about Richie all spread out in the bed, naked, big and covered in hair. He was so fucking _masculine_. It made Eddie's skin prickle, something in his groin heat up. Jesus fucking Christ, he needed to get a grip. It was that insane jealousy for both parties involved.

What if … what if he didn’t use a condom? 

_Have you been playing in that filthy place with those dirty boys?_

What if he’d given Eddie his blood and -

_He got AIDs from touching the pole on the subway, Eddie! He had a hangnail and that was all it took. You have to be careful. You can’t get hurt. What if you get cut? What then? Do you know how easy it would be for you to get it then? Do you know how many of those queers there are out there?_

Eddie didn't dare ask for an explanation of what that meant. He knew _queer_ was a bad word.

No. That was completely ridiculous. Every gay person did not have HIV. Every person who had sex didn’t get an STD.

Eddie tried very hard to stop himself from saying the next part. He tried even harder not to think of the answer being _yes_.

“You don’t date, so what, you just galavant around and have sex with anyone like a true blue rock star?” 

“Galavanting? What the fuck, Eddie?” Richie was laughing. He shook his head. “Not really. I learned everything I needed to know from your mom.”

“Fuck you.” Eddie had the urge to grab the inhaler that had been destroyed in the sewers. It wasn’t really funny timing since he’d just heard his mother’s voice in the back of his head. Eddie was really going to have to stop letting his mom's shitty backward thinking creep it's way into his mind. The thing was, Eddie had pretty much avoided thinking about his sexuality. Period. Because it always came back to that. Maybe he never enjoyed sex because he wasn't having it with someone that he was attracted to.

He was _glad_ that Richie didn’t give a real answer. He looked down at his lap guiltily for letting himself think like that. Just because Richie had sex with a guys, Richie _wasn’t sick._ Richie was Richie. There wasn’t anything different about him. Just because he'd said that he was gay, that didn't mean Eddie had to right to pry because of his own curiosity. Eddie was still Eddie. The difference was that he wasn’t ready to face it. Not like Richie.

“I’m sorry I keep asking you questions. You don’t have to talk about it.” Eddie said. "I was just curious about your life, I guess."

"It's fine, Eds. You're allowed to ask me questions." Richie smiled a little.

"Well, it's scary to expose yourself. I'm proud of you for telling us." Eddie said.

“Yeah well, I’ve only spent forty years of my life in the closet. No biggie.” Richie said.

“Idiot. It’s not funny.”

“Kinda is.” Richie said.

Eddie tsked. 

Richie grinned. “Yeah well, the truth is, I _haven’t_ been banging your mom all these years.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, me either.”

“I sincerely hope not.” Richie jabbed.

“I meant _your mom_. God, don’t be disgusting.” Eddie stayed quiet for a long moment. “Myra reminds me of my mom.”

Richie didn’t say anything for once.

“I mean, God that all sounds awful." Eddie took in a deep breath. "I'm not going to sit here and talk badly about her. It’s not her fault, but I _don’t_ love her. I never have. I’m not attracted to her. Which is why, other than the obvious, that I got fucking embarrassed when you started asking me about my sex life. I don't have one. I haven't had sex with my wife in over a year."

“It sounds complicated.” Richie was looking intently at the blanket string that he was picking at.

“It’s not really that complicated. Not now.” Eddie said.

“What do you mean?” Richie asked, looking back up.

“It always seemed scary to leave her, because marrying her and having a house seemed like the thing I was supposed to do, so I just did it." Eddie guessed it was his turn to peel back some layers. Once he started talking, he couldn't stop. "Now that It’s over, It’s really gone, I feel like I’m in control of my life. I fucking died. Nothing is scarier than that. Not germs. Not sex. Not losing my inhaler in the sewers. Not leaving Myra. Not admitting that - that I have my own reasons for forcing myself into a marriage that’s destined to fail.”

“Destined to fail?” Richie said. “You shouldn’t say that just because you're riding the high of defeating our childhood monster and living. Come on.”

“No, Richie.” Eddie could feel his face heating up. He shook his head. He wasn’t ready to say it. Not like Richie. He closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t even be talking with you about this when I haven’t even spoken to her.” He sank back against the headboard, hands kneading the blanket. “I’m a horrible person.”

“Eddie, you’re not a horrible person because you’re having a mid-life crisis.”

“It’s not midlife if I already died once.” Eddie’s chest felt tight. His throat felt like it was closing. “Oh Jesus. I’m - I’m having an asthma attack.”

“Are you sure?” Richie asked carefully.

“Or something!”

“I think it’s a panic attack.”

Eddie felt like his vision was going white. Everything felt too close. His breathing was heightening.

“Breathe with me, okay?” Richie said.

.

Being in bed with Richie was incredibly distracting. He could hear him breathing and feel his body heat. He was hyper-aware of every movement, every light brush of their bodies. They had been so honest with each other, peeling back one of those many layers of Richie Tozier that Eddie had always been curious about. It was intimate and it was _real_. He felt closer to Richie than ever before. Eddie laid there, taking in what it felt like to be both intimately and physically close to Richie and it was almost an unbearable longing for more.

It wasn’t just that he wanted Richie. He wanted Richie more than he knew what to do with, more than he could handle, and more than he could have ever bared to ask Richie for.

They were friends. They had each other again. Eddie couldn’t mess that up. Not when Richie was going to help him. What if Richie rejected him and then felt obligated to help? What if Richie ended up hating him?

Eddie didn’t know where this hang up on Richie starting to hate him was coming from, but it was apparently another thing to add to his long list of worries.

Eddie had always hated sharing a bed with Myra. He slept stiffly, over-aware of if their bodies touched, hating it when they did. Of course, trying to sleep with his wound wasn't much _better_. He was at least doped up enough to care less about his foot touching Richie's leg.

.

Eddie must have fallen asleep at some point, because he woke up to the smell of coffee. He was surprised that Richie was awake before him, considering the morning before Richie had tried his best to sleep until noon. He looked at the clock.

**10:37AM.**

He made his way into the living area, yawning sleepily.

“You’re looking scruffy, Eds.”

“Are you serious? The literal embodiment of scruffy-looking called me scruffy.” Eddie said. Although it looked like Richie had already been in the shower. His hair was wet and messy.

“Who’s scruffy-looking?” Richie was doing an impression of Han Solo, but it was hardly worth a response.

“Oh man. I just realized that I can shower today.” Eddie said excitedly. He disappeared back into the bedroom and gathered up clothes to change into after the shower. He was so excited that he forgot all about coffee.

He quickly went into the bathroom and shut the door. He turned the water on and put his hand under, smiling brightly. He started to take his pajamas off. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. 

He _did_ look scruffy. He hadn’t shaved in days, possibly a little afraid of putting a blade close to his face after the Henry Bowers situation. Linda had offered to shave his face for him in the hospital, but the idea of someone else with a blade near his face was even worse. He was gaining color back in his face, but the circles under his eyes were prominent. The stab wound on his left cheek was still healing, but the stitches were gone. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but it seemed like he had more gray hair than he came to Derry with. He was thin, face hollowed and he hadn’t even looked at his body.

He peeled back the pajama shirt to reveal his bandaged chest. He had been in fairly good shape before the hospital stay. He was thin and the muscles that had once been there were undefined. He swallowed hard, feeling self-conscious and disappointed. _This isn’t fair_ , he couldn’t help thinking. He peeled off the bandage on his chest, inspecting it to make sure there were no signs of infection still lingering. He reached over his shoulder to pull the one off of his back and hissed in pain. He was able to pull it off himself by reaching below.

He remembered that Richie had to put his bandages back on and fuck if that wasn’t making it all the worse.

He didn’t dwell for much longer though. When the shower was heated to his liking, he stepped out of his pajamas and into the steaming hot water. You had to take the good with the bad, and this shower was going to be _really good_. Shitty range of motion be damned. He was going to scrub his hair for as long as he could stand. Even though all that he currently had was a half-used bottle of hotel shampoo.

He stayed in the shower for a good thirty-five minutes, just enjoying it. He’d never take that shit for granted again. Once he was good and dry, he started to dress. He was still not looking forward to having Richie see him shirtless or dress his wounds, but he guessed it was better to get it over with.

He cracked the door. “Hey, Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you help me with my bandages?” Eddie asked.

“Your wish is my command.”

Richie appeared in the bathroom moments later. He even washed his hands before he touched Eddie’s bandages which was a good sign that he knew what he was doing. 

“What took you so long? Did you jerk off in here or something?” Richie asked.

Eddie turned a bright color of red. “No. I was just showering.”

Richie was snickering under his breath. Soon, Eddie could feel Richie’s hands on his back, pressing the bandages down over the wound. Eddie wasn’t sure if his cheeks would ever stop being red.

“When I scraped my knee falling off my bike or whenever Bowers would punch me in the face or something, you always helped me clean up my cuts.” Richie said as he worked.

Eddie looked up at the mirror. Richie was looking too and they locked eyes.

“Yeah, and you were always a baby when I wiped them off with alcohol pads.” Eddie grinned.

“That shit burns.” Richie said.

“Try being impaled.” Eddie said.

“You got me there.” Richie was finishing up the last of the bandages. “You always did have a higher pain tolerance than me.”

“Yeah, well, so did first graders.”

“Fuck off.” Richie laughed softly.

Eddie turned around, suddenly his face was super close to Richie’s. He could feel Richie's body heat. He was so close, Eddie could just lean in a little more and kiss him. Intstead, he leaned back against the sink. Richie’s shoulders boxed Eddie in, made him feel trapped, or better yet, _safe_. He swallowed hard, following Richie’s gaze downward, toward his own chest.

“Holy shit. This miraculously didn’t take your nipple off.” Richie said.

“Where did you think my nipples were? My fucking collarbone? My rib cage? The center of my fucking chest?” Eddie asked, offended.

“I dunno. I definitely thought you’d be shit out of luck on having two nipples though.”

Eddie scoffed. “Go. I don’t need your help with the chest.”

Richie started to say something, but closed his mouth.

“If I need your help, I’ll yell at you again.”

"You're always yelling at me! How will I know the difference?"

Eddie glared at him.

.

Before parting from Maine, Eddie and Richie met with Ben, Bev, and Mike for brunch at the diner across the street from their hotel. Eddie wanted to order pancakes, because he fucking could, but instead, he ordered eggs and bacon because he was supposed to have protein. Mike did offer Eddie one of his pancakes, which Eddie took with delight. He could only eat half of it, but it was still delicious.

“Eddie, are you sure you’re okay? I mean, last time we talked about you leaving Maine, you acted like you weren’t sure where you were going to go after this.” Bev finally asked. Eddie could tell she'd been dying to say something this whole time.

“I’m okay. I’m staying with Richie.” Eddie said.

“Oh.” Bev said, looking at him funny.

“You can travel across the country with that injury?” Mike asked.

“We’re staying in Vermont. My ‘rents have a lake house there. I'm surprised you didn't know that, stalker.” Richie said that last part toward Mike. “We're just going to stay there until Eddie’s healed and all that good stuff.”

“Your parents have a lake house in Vermont?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, they bought it six years ago or something. I’ve been there like twice. Honestly, don’t even know the last time the family’s been there.” Richie said. “Maybe my sister’s taken the kids or something, but who really knows. It’s a nice place.”

“I designed like twenty houses in Vermont for a gated community in Echo Lake.” Ben said.

“No fucking shit.” Richie was pulling out his phone and Eddie was nosily watching as he pulled up a picture of the lake house. “This one of ‘em?”

Eddie was overwhelmed with the idea that they were staying at the place in the picture because of him and it was _too nice_. 

“Yeah, it is!” Ben said excitedly.

“Well, shit, dude.” Richie was shaking his head. “My sister says that this house looks like Edward Cullen’s house, but I think it’s distinctly different.” 

“Who?” Eddie asked.

“Twilight vampire.” Richie said.

Eddie was trying to figure out how Richie and his sister had such deliberate opinions on architecture in Twilight, a movie that Eddie had never seen.

“Oh, come on. That looks nothing like the Cullen's house.” Ben grinned.

“God, you _would_ know what the houses in Twilight look like.” Richie said.

“It’s very distinct, okay?” Ben laughed.

“Echo Lake sounds like a place some vampires would be living. Mike, you taking notes?” Richie asked.

“Pretty sure vampires aren’t real.” Mike said.

“Now that you’ve sobered up are you no longer a believer?” Richie asked.

“I never said that.” Mike laughed. “I’m talking about shit that has foundation. If they exist, I’m pretty sure it’s not in the way that we expect.”

“I’m just curious about some of the places you’re going to go, Mike.” Bev said.

“Are you a secret myth enthusiast too?” Richie asked toward Bev.

“Stop making fun.” Eddie said.

“What? I’m just asking!” Richie said.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

Mike did tell them about some of the places he was going to explore, both for the lore and just to visit new places. Richie kept his mouth shut for the most part. Ben and Bev said that they were going to do a similar road trip, though it was less filled with myths and more just to enjoy it. Eddie was happy to hear that his friends were finally doing some of the things that they wanted to do.

The tearful goodbyes from the night before were re-lived. Eddie was feeling very emotional when they parted from Mike, Ben and Bev, but he tried not to show it, even though Richie was also sniffling a little himself. They were packed and ready to be on the road by 1 o’clock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are having real conversations about something that is a deeply embedded fear for both of them, which is really a big deal. Asking the hard questions,
> 
> "What's it like being gay?"
> 
> "What's the deal with you and your wife?"
> 
> You want to know what the lake house looks like? [Here. ](https://imgur.com/a/3CPbCZ0)
> 
> It doesn't look like Edward Cullen’s house, but I can see where Richie’s sister gets it. It's the Twilight Renaissance, I can't help bringing it up. Also, are dentists making enough money for a place like this just as a vacation home? IDK, but in my fantasy they do.


	6. Sorry About The Tozier Family Soap Opera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A road trip! The beginning of this chapter is really fun. Lots of music references. Then we're getting a totally normal family dinner where a murder trial is discussed. The usual.
> 
> Something that you didn’t know you needed: Uncle Richie. Eddie's swooning over it, really.
> 
> Warning: discussion of Henry Bowers bullying and Richie killing him, panic attacks

_I dare you to close your eyes  
_ _And see all the colors in disguise  
_ _Runnin' into the night  
_ _The earth is shaking and I see a light_

_\- Of Monsters and Men_

* * *

As the two of them made sure they had everything packed up, ready to spend an indefinite amount of time together, Richie tried not to put too much thought into the night before. Really, he tried not to put too much thought into anything if he could help it. His brain had other intentions about this though. Richie didn’t mind sharing some things about his life with Eddie. He trusted Eddie. It wasn’t really about anything that he’d said to Eddie. Mostly, his brain was stuck on the idea that Eddie had seemed like he had more to say. Richie knew that Eddie had unfortunately dealt with a mother who controlled every aspect of his life, and even after her death, it seemed like Eddie hadn’t allowed himself to stray far from what his mother would have expected of him.

Richie was in full support of independent Eddie. He understood why Eddie had been so insistent about not being taken care of. Even if healing from a serious injury was the perfect opportunity to be babied. Richie would have taken that if it were him. 

Eddie was so fucking tough. He was walking with his walker, slowly but still doing it. He was even carrying Richie's duffle bag to the car, less than two weeks after being a fucking kabob. Richie just hoped he wasn’t over doing it. Eddie was doing a lot more than resting. Richie kept his mouth shut though and let Eddie do what he felt like he could.

Richie couldn’t help notice that when Eddie pulled the seatbelt over his chest that he winced hard, even hissed with a little pain. Once he was settled, Richie started the car.

“I made a playlist for you on this glorious occasion.” Richie handed his phone over to Eddie, grinning proudly. “It’ll shift the sad mood too.”

“Is this like a mixtape?” Eddie asked. As he took it, his skin brushed against Richie's and it made his heart jump.

There had been a time in Richie’s life where making mixtapes was practically his hobby. He had made Eddie mixtapes in the past, some that he actually gave to Eddie to “broaden his horizon of music” and others he kept hidden away that were always filled with love songs. ‘Songbird’ by Fleetwood Mac was sometimes on the hidden ones. He had only listened to that song when he was sure no one else would know. Most of his memories from Derry were foggy, but sometimes one would come back that was really vivid. He wondered if music would help that, now that his memories had been sparked again. Like coming out of a coma.

This playlist for Eddie wasn’t anything like any of those though. It was purely for entertainment purposes. He had made it the night before while Eddie was asleep. “Yeah, but it’s 2016 and no one does that shit anymore.” Richie said. “I think you’ll figure out which playlist it is.”

Eddie scrolled through his phone. “Is it the one called: ‘Eddie’s Not Dead Celebration Playlist’?”

“Yup.” Richie was grinning as he backed out of the parking space. It may have been filled with songs like ‘I Will Survive’, ‘I’m Still Standing’, and ...

“‘Staying Alive’? Really?” Eddie said.

“Great, right? And this is for _you_ , Eds” Richie was incredibly pleased with himself.

“Part of it is just you being a dick.”

“It totally is.” Richie agreed, the smile not fading. “This is what I was going to start playing if you didn’t wake up from your coma.”

Eddie pressed play. “Nice, but I never really was a big fan of Madonna.” Eddie said as the sounds of ‘Holiday’ filled the car.

Richie tutted. “Madonna is a gay icon, which makes me obligated to respect her. You can’t change it.”

“Whatever.” Eddie said, putting his phone down in the middle cubby.

“Thanks for respecting my culture.” Richie knew that it was better if he kept reminding himself that he could talk about being gay, even if he was being overtly stereotypical. He guessed that was okay when it was just for the fun of it. 

Richie weaved through the traffic to find the way onto the highway. When the song changed, he reached for the volume to turn it up. “This song is for both of us. Our will to go on against all odds. You nearly dying and me coming out.” Richie explained. He was talking entirely out of his ass at this point.

“How is ‘I Will Survive’ about coming out?” Eddie asked.

“It just is, Eddie.”

“This playlist is getting awfully gay. I think you just made the whole thing for yourself.”

Richie laughed loudly.

When ‘Stayin’ Alive’ came on, Richie’s impression of the Bee Gees was enough to make Eddie laugh too. Richie would have done pretty much anything to make Eddie laugh, but he was glad that Eddie thought his stupid shit was funny. “Man, disco sucks.” Richie added as an afterthought to his choice.

“You made this playlist.” Eddie reminded him.

“This one’s good!” Richie said when the song changed. ‘I’m Still Standing’ by Elton John was a choice he was particularly proud of for this playlist too. He hoped Eddie was half as amused as he was. Eddie didn’t look it though, he just said, “Richie, you’re an asshole.”

Richie also couldn’t deny himself the chance to mimic Elton John. He saw from the corner of his eye that Eddie looked over at him, face scrunched up in confusion.

“What?” Richie asked.

“Your impressions are way better than they used to be.”

This just egged Richie on, really. Any hint of a compliment from Eddie made his ego swell. Richie was even more delighted when the second chorus came around and Eddie was joining him with the “yeah, yeah, yeah”s. To which Richie’s response was, “Fuck yeah! Eddie Spaghetti joins in for the backing vocals.”

Really, the playlist was making for more entertainment than Richie could have dreamed of.

“Why ‘Mama Mia’?” Eddie asked.

“Don’t you like ABBA?” Richie asked.

“Didn’t you say disco sucks?” Eddie asked.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Richie insisted.

“Yes, I like ABBA. Are you happy?” Eddie grumbled.

“I wanna hear you sing.”

“I have broken ribs, Richie.”

Despite that fact, both of them were singing ‘Mama Mia’ as loud as humanly possible in the car by the time the chorus came around. The radio was cranked loud, floating out the open windows. 

Comfortable silence settled around them for the next few songs. There was still something distinct hanging around them, wrapping them up like a morning fog - familiar but still thick, they couldn't quite get on with the day. Yes, they've fallen back into the comfortable banter, the teasing, and yet knowing that they would never actually try to hurt the other. Being together felt so easy. Richie was still so full of yearning. The memories were foggy, but the feelings were crystal clear. More intense with every passing moment.

"Taylor Swift? Are you fucking serious?" Eddie broke him out of his thoughts.

“It’s exactly like the song says, Eddie. Haters gonna _hate hate hate_.”

Eddie rolled his eyes so hard that Richie could practically hear it. Eddie started talking. Ranting, more like. Though it had nothing to do with Taylor Swift. It's more like a story, but Eddie can't tell stories for shit. He talks too fast, gets too distracted with the details. He's flinging his arms around too much while he talks, too much for the constrained car seat and too much for someone who had a hole through their chest. Richie was fascinated, smitten even. He could have listened to Eddie's overly drawn out stories about nothing for the entire car ride.

Then, “Richie, are you speeding?”

“The speed limit is what song you’re listening to and this is 80 miles per hour easy, baby.”

"Okay, that doesn't even make fucking sense."

"Don't tell me you don't listen to music while you drive."

"Of course I do." Eddie said. "I think it's the only time that I ever really do. Aside from working out."

"Working out?" Richie sputtered. 

"Yes, working out! Why's that fucking funny?"

"You were never allowed to even participate in gym class."

"Didn't mean I didn't want to."

Richie glanced over at Eddie, eyes on the stitches in his cheek. He looked back forward, swallowing hard. God, he had never met someone like Eddie. Someone so brave and determined. His mother had always attempted to stifle that.

‘I Want To Break Free’ by Queen played next and Richie found himself singing softly. It was one of those songs that Richie just _felt in his soul_. He didn’t know how to explain it any other way. But he’d totally included it on the playlist for himself. Though as he sang along, he felt for Eddie. Maybe that was his song.

Eddie was all-out grinning when Richie glanced at him. “ _What_?”

“Nothing.”

Richie smiled a little to himself, even though maybe he was a little embarrassed again because Eddie had caught him singing. “You’re just getting a hint of what a full Richie Tozier car concert is like.”

“Can’t wait to see more.” Eddie’s tone was cryptic. Richie couldn’t decide if he really wanted to, or he was being sarcastic.

The next song came on, and Eddie was apparently very excited to hear ‘Take It On the Run’. Richie remembered right. Eddie loved REO Speedwagon. And Richie had to pretend to hate it, but how could he _really_ hate anything that brought Eddie this much joy? Richie had put another REO Speedwagon song on after that, just for Eddie.

“I love this song. I haven’t listened to this in … Jesus, I can’t even remember.” Eddie looked like it was his turn to have a _moment_. 

_“And I meant every word I said /_ _When I said that I love you /_ _I meant that I love you forever_

 _And I'm gonna keep on lovin' you /_ _Cause it's the only thing I wanna do  
_ _I don't wanna sleep /_ _I just wanna keep on lovin' you”_

Richie was grinning as he heard Eddie start singing. His heart sort of picked up when he listened to the lyrics though, so maybe he had picked that one for a reason too. Maybe he had subconsciously made a mixtape, or tried to sneak an emotion on there like he used to. Even though this song was incredibly corny. Maybe drunk Richie was more in tune with his emotions, since drunk Richie had made this playlist.

Richie really could have done without relating to corny love songs. He’d do what he always did, which was pick on Eddie and get him riled up.

“That’s just cute, cute, _cute_.” Richie said.

“What the fuck? Why’s it fucking cute when I do it?” Eddie asked, all flustered. “I’m not fucking cute. I’m forty.”

“It’s cute when I do it too.” Richie said.

“It’s not.” Eddie said.

“Oh yeah it is. I'm cute about everything.”

“Well I’ll be the fucking judge of that next time.”

Was arguing over who was cute really any better? Richie didn’t know, but he was relieved when Journey came on so he could say, “Journey sucks too.”

“Fuck off. Your music sucks.” Eddie said.

Richie laughed. “Untrue. I just like the good stuff.”

“Your music is trash, just like you.” Eddie said, though he was grinning while he spoke. “You used to make me grit my teeth when you played some of your shit.”

“Ben likes Journey too, by the way.”

“Ben had good taste in music.” Eddie teased.

“Ugh, Ben does _not_ have good taste.”

It was about an hour in and Eddie said that he started feeling nauseous. They had to stop and let him breathe, which was just as well because Richie wanted coffee. Iced coffee.

.

There were pine trees lining the highway, shading them as they got closer to the exit for Richie's parents. Richie was readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. He was so zoned out that Beastie Boys were playing and he didn’t even turn it up. Richie wasn’t looking forward to seeing his parents. They were doing him a huge favor, yes. He tried to keep that in mind. He owed them this visit, considering he hadn’t been there in over two years. That and they physically had the key to the lake house, so he had to suck it up and go. 

It was just that Richie didn’t particularly want Eddie to witness what he assumed the inevitable would be - his mom was going to find a way to be passive aggressive and remind Richie of the things he did that she didn’t like. Richie didn’t have the right to complain about his family in front of Eddie, considering it was eons away from being as bad as Eddie’s, but he still dreaded everything about this.

“We can go to the hotel first. You don’t have to come to my parents if you’re tired.” Richie tried to casually suggest.

“I’m okay. I slept a little.” Eddie said.

“Yeah, you know how exhausting people can be though.” Richie said.

“Your mom was always really nice to me. I think it’ll be okay.”

If Eddie noticed something was up, he didn’t mention it.

“This place is nice.” Eddie said as they drove through the downtown area. Tall buildings poked out of the bundles of lush green trees.

“Yeah.”

Richie turned down a street to the suburban rows of brick houses with white fences and dogs barking from behind them, nicely manicured yards with rows of flowers, kids playing basketball in one driveway. They arrived earlier than Richie had wanted. He should have gone by the hotel first, honestly. There were multiple cars in the driveway when they pulled in. He should have known that he was going to get a family ambush. 

“I think my sister’s here.” Richie said. “She’s single, you know. Recently divorced.”

“Yeah, Richie, I’m gonna hit on your sister in front of your parents at this family dinner.” Eddie said, looking embarrassed.

“I grant you my permission.” A wide grin spread over Richie’s features at the sight of Eddie that bright pink under his beginnings of a beard.

As Richie opened the car door, he was greeted by the loud, “UNCLE RICHIE!”

Richie’s nephew came rushing onto the lawn with his arms extended. When Richie got out of the car, he was attacked with the surprising arm strength of an excited ten year old around the midsection. He squeezed and Richie leaned down to hug him back, but immediately went into tickle mode because that’s what kids _really_ wanted. 

“Stop!!!!!” His nephew squawked.

“Never!” After a few more seconds of torture, Richie did stop though. At least for the moment.

“Who’s that?” Ryan asked.

Richie looked over his shoulder where Eddie was standing awkwardly.

“That’s my friend. His name's Eddie. We’re staying at Grandma’s lake house while he gets all healed up. He was impaled by a wooden beam.” Richie explained.

“No way.” Ryan said skeptically.

“It’s true.” Eddie said.

“Eddie can barely stand. We need to get inside, so go.” Richie made a shooing motion with his hands.

Ryan gasped and ran toward the front stairs.

Eddie shot Richie a look. Richie just grinned at him.

Waiting on the porch and leaning against one of the white pillars was Richie’s niece. She had easily grown a foot since the last time Richie had seen her, and it made Richie feel a twinge of guilt. It was a pleasant surprise to see his niece and nephew. He really felt like he’d missed a lot in the past two years. Of course, he’d given the dweebs birthday phone calls, Christmas money, all the stuff that he was supposed to do, but actually seeing them was different. He felt like an asshole.

“Madison, I know you wanna give your Uncle Richie a hug too. Come on.” Richie said, arms extended out this time.

Madison rolled her eyes. She was thirteen, it was expected. Still, she hugged him tightly and wouldn’t let go when he tried to go for the screen door.

“Alright, alright. I get it. Hugs are in order more often.” Richie said.

Madison still didn’t look satisfied when she pulled back from the hug.

“Ryan you left the front door wide open! What are we, air conditioning the whole neighborhood?” Richie’s mom was in the hall and god, if that wasn’t the most motherly thing he had ever heard in his life.

“ _You’re in trouble_.” Richie said in a sing-song voice that made Ryan laugh.

“Richie.” His mom stepped onto the front porch, air conditioning forgotten. She immediately clung onto him. Richie slumped a little into her hug, arms squeezing her. He rested his cheek against her shoulder because she wasn’t letting him go so easily either.

“Alright mom, Jesus Christ.” Richie said finally. “What are we? Air conditioning the whole neighborhood?” He mimicked her.

She pulled back from the hug to give him a disapproving look. And that was what Richie _hadn’t_ missed. Or maybe he had after all, because he was smiling and she was smiling right back at him.

“Eddie Kaspbrak, my goodness.” Maggie said. She was approaching him with what was about to be a hug. 

“He’s hurt, mom.” Richie reminded her quickly.

She paused and put a hand against his unscathed cheek for one pat. “I haven’t seen you in so long.” She paused again, brows furrowed. She looked at Richie. “It wasn’t until you brought him up that I remembered all your little friends from Derry. It’s so nice that you boys are still friends.”

“It’s good to see you Mrs. Tozier.” Eddie said politely.

“Well come in, sit down.” Maggie said, holding the screen door open for them all to go inside.

Once they reached the living room, Richie’s sister, Jessica, shot up from her seat on the couch to give Richie a hug. Richie was really feeling the ambush. He had hugged more in the past week than his entire life.

Then, it was his dad’s turn to give him a hug, which was a rarity. His dad wasn’t a typical hugger. He was more of a pat on the back and 'good job, son' type. It was a welcomed change, really.

After the hugs and 'hello's Richie sat down on the loveseat. He made eye contact with Eddie, nodding for him to sit down next to him, to make him feel a little less awkward.

The conversation was flowing with the initial small talk; _How are you? How was your trip to Derry? I can’t believe you went back there! How was the drive? The weather?_ It was mostly pleasant, and only felt a little bit awkward. The tension had sort of defused until Wentworth asked, “What made you all go all the way to Derry anyway?”

“Stan Uris tried to kill himself.” Richie said.

Maggie gasped. Jessica gave Richie a pointed look, like he shouldn’t have said that in front of the kids, as if they didn’t know people did that sometimes.

“Anyway, we all got together to reminisce and make him feel better.” Richie finished up lamely.

“Do you have any idea when you’ll be going back to LA?” Maggie asked.

“I just got here and you’re already gettin’ rid o’ me?” Richie decided to do some kind of shitty New York accent. “I sees hows it is. I sees.”

Wentworth and the kids laughed a little. Hey. That was good enough.

“No, I was just wondering about the lake house.” Maggie brushed past his comments.

“Why? So it can sit there empty for another fucking year?” Richie asked.

“I was just making conversation, Richie.” Maggie sounded exasperated. 

“I go back to the doctor in two weeks. I'll know more about when I'll be properly healed then. We’ll try to give you an idea of when we’ll be out of there as soon as we know something.” Eddie explained quickly, diffusing the small amount of tension that was trying to rise already.

“Thank you, Eddie.” Maggie said with a smile.

“Eddie, you always were much nicer than Richie. I never understood why you were his friend.” Wentworth joked.

Richie snorted. “Fuck you, old man.”

Wentworth laughed softly.

Eddie looked mortified that Richie had said that to his dad.

“Richie, you should really watch your mouth.” Maggie said.

“When have I ever and why would I start doing it now?” Richie asked.

“There’s a fresh bar of soap for anyone who I hear cursing again to wash their mouth out with.” Though Maggie's eyes were sparkling a little, and Richie grinned.

“Would you really make us do that?” Ryan asked.

“I wouldn’t test the theory, dude.” Richie said.

“Better yet, I’ll give you a teeth cleaning with my home kit.” Wentworth said.

“You just sound crazy when you say things like that, dad.” Jessica said.

Richie laughed.

"Jessica, you still ripping out people's teeth and cutting into their gums and shit?" Richie asked.

"I'm just an assistant. I don't get to rip people's teeth out." Jessica said. Jessica started talking about her job, which Richie thought was for the best. It turned into a conversation between Jessica and their dad though. Jessica had followed their dad’s footsteps into the dental field, sort of. Jessica was an assistant in an oral surgeon’s office, which is apparently different from being a dentist.

Richie watched as his mom sat next to Madison. One hand was brushing through Madison’s hair as they talked a little between themselves. When Ryan tried to grab her attention, she would frown and not say much of anything. Richie was reminded of what it was like in his home when he was a kid. When Jessica came along, Maggie got what she’d wanted all along; a girl that she could understand. Maybe his mom didn’t mean to do it. Maybe it wasn’t fair for Richie to feel hurt by it.

“Hey - Ryan c’mere.” Richie beckoned his nephew over.

Ryan came and flopped down on the space between Richie and Eddie.

“Be careful, my friend is critically injured and you’re just climbing in here like crazy.” Richie said.

“I wasn’t!” Ryan insisted, though he was scooting closer to Richie. "Sorry." He said toward Eddie.

“I’m not critically injured. I’m healing.” Eddie said. “You’re fine.”

“Okay.” Ryan said, grinning a little.

“What’s up, dude?” Richie asked. “School suck or do you like it?”

“It’s okay.” Ryan said.

“What do you guys even do at school?”

“Learn stuff, I guess.”

“Are your teachers robots?” Richie asked.

Ryan laughed. “No.”

“Just curious. Won’t be long until they are.”

“Who says?” Ryan looked very skeptical.

“The government.”

“No they don’t!”

“Yup.” 

“Don’t listen to him. He just makes stuff up for the fun of it.” Eddie chimed in. He was smiling softly. Richie could see his dimples.

Richie put his arm around Ryan, squeezing his shoulders. “Yeah, you’re getting way too old to buy into my bullshit, kiddo.”

“Well you’re an adult! I’m supposed to believe you.” Ryan said.

“Bad call, kid. All adults don’t know what they’re talking about.” Richie said.

Eddie was getting pulled into the family's conversation, answering questions about his life in New York. Eddie was good at talking, so Richie wasn’t too worried about him feeling too incredibly awkward. Richie had asked Jessica not to ask about his marriage, which so far, so good. He left them be.

Richie knew that Ryan was getting older, that he wasn’t going to appreciate the snake hand for very much longer, but it wasn’t long before they were both humoring each other with it. Richie held his hand up, hissing and pretending it was going to strike at Ryan and Ryan laughed so incredibly loud that he was practically squealing with it. Richie just kept making the ‘snake’ strike, poking and pinching at Ryan with each touch. Richie was grinning, laughing too.

Richie playfully dumped his nephew off of his lap and into the floor, where he had ended up still trying to fight the snake hand (which was a bad call in Richie’s option). Ryan was kicking though, taunting and wanting Richie to keep playing with him. Richie leaned down and tickled him. Ryan was kicking and saying, “No, stop!!”

“Watch the glasses, pipsqueak You break ‘em I break your bones.” Richie took Ryan by his ankle and pretended like he was going to bend it back. Ryan squirmed away, laughing.

“Richie! Cut it out.” Maggie snapped.

“Come on, mom. Ryan’s ten. He needs to burn at least half his energy before dinner.” Richie said.

“Ryan, why don’t you go play outside for a little while? Burn off that energy.” Maggie said.

Ryan stood up, dusting himself off a little. “Uncle Richie, will you come outside with me?” 

“Uncle Richie needs to talk about grown up things for a little while.” Maggie's lips were in a thin line.

Ryan didn’t put up much of a fight. He just sighed out, “You’ve been talking about grown up stuff this whole time.” He went out the backdoor. When it slammed, Richie’s mom sighed in return. Richie kind of wished that he had gone outside, because Richie would have much rather kicked a soccer ball (which he hated doing) or something if that meant not having to talk about adult things. Whatever the fuck that meant.

“Madison, go make sure your brother doesn’t terrorize the neighbor’s dog.” Jessica said.

“ _Mom_.” Madison groaned. “He’s old enough to take care of himself.”

“Just go.” Jessica said.

Madison looked pleadingly at her grandma, but Maggie said nothing. Madison made a dramatic exit, stomping her feet a little.

Richie watched as the mood in the room shifted immediately. He looked over at Eddie apologetically, because it was time for the inevitable to happen, he guessed. He had no idea what this was about, but he was already jiggling his leg quickly in anticipation of what was coming.

“So I think mom and dad wanted to talk to you about something." Jessica started, eyes darting nervously around the room.

“Um … ” Richie started, but deep down, he knew that they knew about -

“The murder trail, Richie.” Maggie said.

Richie stiffened. “What the fuck, Jessica? You told them?” He asked. “God, you always were the biggest fucking tatetale in history.”

Richie had confided in his sister about as much as he could about his trip back to Derry. He had left out all the supernatural elements. Richie had never mentioned anything like that to her. She was younger than him, but still would have made fun of him and told him he was reading too many horror comics. She was a feisty little kid too, in hindsight. Richie had thought that the less she knew, the better. The same went for the most recent events. Richie had only told her that there was an accident while he was in Derry, that his friend Mike had been attacked, and that Richie had killed the attacker. He admittedly hadn’t been talking very clearly, because he’d called Jessica when he was all worked up and kind of hysterical about the trial being the next day. He hadn’t given the details that it was Henry Bowers.

“I’m sorry, Rich.” Jessica said. “We’re all so worried about you. I just wanted you to talk to us.”

“So you waited for me to get fucking ambushed?” Richie asked.

“What were you going to do, Richie, wait for us to hear it on TMZ like your trip to rehab?” Maggie asked.

Richie sighed. He leaned over and put his head in his hands, massaging his temples with two fingers. He felt Eddie put a hand on his back. He sat back up, looking over at Eddie again with a small, thankful smile. He focused on the feeling of Eddie's hand on his back.

“What’s going on with you, Richie?” Wentworth asked, bringing him back into the moment.

“So do you all remember my friend Mike Hanlon?” Richie asked, sitting up-right.

“The black boy. He was always so nice and polite.” Maggie said thoughtfully. She grimaced. “His parents died in that fire, didn't they? And he was homeschooled by his grandparents. His father was always so kind. He always gave me the best cuts of meat.” Maggie was rambling, as if the memories were just returning to her.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Richie said with a sad sort of smile. “Mike’s been living in Derry, became a librarian.”

"He didn't keep up his grandfather's farm?" Maggie asked.

"No, he had to sell it." Richie added.

Maggie frowned.

"So ... do you remember Henry Bowers?” Richie asked. If they wanted the whole fucking story, they were getting it.

“One of your friends?” Maggie asked.

“No.” Richie shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Henry Bowers … wasn’t he supposed to be like two years above you, Richie? He flunked so many times he was in your grade.” Jessica said.

"The Bowers farm was near the Hanlon's." Maggie interjected.

“Yep. Henry Bowers used to terrorize me.” Richie said. 

“Well, Richie, I’m sure there was some reason you were targeted. That mouth of yours, for one thing.” Maggie said.

“Yeah, sure, mom.” Richie said, dismissively. “Punching me in the face and breaking my glasses was really an even trade off for anything I’d ever said.”

“You breaking your glasses was never your own fault.” Maggie shook her head. "You always had some half-baked story about what had happened."

Richie felt his heart rate increase, pounding in his ears as his blood boiled. He took in a deep breath. Eddie moved his hand from Richie's back to the top of his hand where it was squeezing the couch cushion. Eddie squeezed gently before he withdrew it. That was enough to calm Richie down a little. He focused on the way his hand tingled after the contact with Eddie was gone.

“Henry Bowers used to beat you guys up, didn’t he?” Jessica asked. "He hung out with that kid called Belch and Patrick Hocksetter." Jessica made a face. "Wait ... Patrick Hocksetter - "

"Died." Maggie finished, brows furrowed. "I almost forgot. How could I forget something like that?"

Richie and Eddie exchanged looks.

“Well, Henry and his gang hated me and all my friends.” Richie said. “Henry hated us the most. One time, he rubbed Stanley Uris’s face in the snow until he bled. He carved into Ben Hanscom’s stomach with a knife.”

“Richie, is that true?” Wentworth asked.

“Yes. I’m not kidding around right now.” Richie said.

Eddie was nodding next to him in agreement.

Richie sucked in a deep breath. “Henry Bowers is the same kid that killed his own father. Remember _that_?” Richie noted the way that his family looked taken aback, like they’d also forgotten everything that happened in Derry. Maybe they had.

“And little George Denbrough.” Maggie said, hand coming up to cover her mouth. “I’d forgotten about that.”

Eddie and Richie exchanged looks again. "Yeah." Richie lied quietly.

“He was put in that asylum.” Jessica helped him along. Maybe Jessica was making the connection. 

“Yeah, so Henry Bowers broke out of the asylum while we were in Derry.” Richie said. “He stabbed Eddie in the face.”

Maggie gasped softly, looking at Eddie. “Is that what happened to you?” She asked.

“No, no. The rest wasn’t exactly Bowers related, but the face is.” Eddie explained, gesturing to his still stitched up face.

“But Bowers was on the loose.” Richie went on.

“So what does this have to do with the trial? Are you trying to stall at telling us about it?” Wentworth asked.

“It has everything to do with the trial.” Richie said solemnly. His throat felt tight. “Henry Bowers hated all of us, but he hated Mike the most.” Richie sucked in a breath, but he felt like he couldn’t breath. He remembered everything from all those years ago, when they'd found Henry and his friends holding Mike down and threatening him. Then, Henry in the library, hovering over Mike with a knife. The same knife he'd stabbed Eddie with. “He - he tried to kill Mike - and I … I … ” Richie could hear his heart beating hard in his ears and it felt like the room was spinning. “He was attacking Mike - he was on top of him with a fucking knife - and he - he was going to kill him. So I killed Henry Bowers.” 

Richie sucked in another sudden breath, almost choking on it. He felt his eyes stringing with tears. He remembered the strike of the axe and the splitting sound when it hit Henry’s skull. Richie put his face in his hands, fingers rubbing at his eyes behind the glasses. Richie’s shoulders were shaking, and he was doing everything not to fucking cry. 

He felt a hand on his back. “Richie. It’s okay.” Eddie said quietly.

“Richie? Oh my god.” He could hear his mom’s voice, but it sounded like she was talking to him from under water.

“C’mere, son. Get up, you need some air.” His dad was offering Richie his hand. Richie took it. His dad and sister pulled him up off of the couch.

//

Eddie was standing, eyes wide and a little alarmed. He had never seen Richie like that, but Eddie supposed that talking about killing someone was enough to warrant a panic attack. He wanted to help, but Eddie stayed in the living room while Richie and his dad went down the hall. It made sense why Richie knew how to help Eddie out of a panic attack though. Maybe he had them sometimes. Eddie was worried, but he wanted to give Richie a moment with his dad.

Mrs. Tozier was sitting back in her seat, hands curled around the arms of her chair. She was looking off in the distance, probably trying to make sense of everything she’d just heard. 

Eddie was also trying to make sense of everything he’d just heard, because Richie hadn’t talked about the trial to him even once. And this was the first that Eddie had heard about Richie going to rehab. How long ago was that? What kind of problem had Richie had? He’d had a tugging feeling in his chest that Richie wasn’t okay. There was always more to Richie than he wanted to show. There always had been.

“Why didn’t Richie ever tell us that you kids were bullied like that?” Mrs. Tozier was looking at Eddie by the end of the question.

Eddie shook his head, finding his seat again because he was starting to ache. “I'm not sure. I don’t think he meant to keep anything from you.”

“He did tell you, mom.” Jessica said. “You did the same thing back then. Ask him what he did to entice them and yell at him for breaking his glasses.”

Eddie sat back, biting down on his bottom lip.

“Well you know how Richie is.” Mrs. Tozier said dismissively. She looked at Eddie again. “I’m sorry you had to be here for this mess.” She pushed herself up out of the chair. “I need to check on dinner.”

Eddie let out a heavy breath. He was feeling exhausted, honestly, and they hadn’t even made it to dinner yet. He was worried about Richie, because Richie always kept everything hidden so deep that Eddie had no idea how killing Bowers had been affecting him. At least Richie was starting to open up about things. It probably hadn’t helped that he was being drilled like he was on trial again.

“Mom’s not a bad person.” Jessica said suddenly.

Eddie looked over to Jessica, head shaking a little. “I never - I wouldn’t say anything like that.”

“I know. You were always sweet.” Jessica said.

Eddie felt himself blush at the compliment. He had never been very good at receiving compliments.

Jessica was defending her mother. Eddie couldn't blame her for wanting to do that. He had defended his own mother all the time, even though she had done terrible things that were still damaging to Eddie, even though she'd been dead for years. Maggie was a good mother. Eddie remembered Richie getting frustrated with her as a kid, but he also remembered her calling his own mother to assure her that Eddie would be just fine if he stayed over for the night. He remembered Maggie spreading out sleeping bags on the floor in Richie's room for Eddie, Bill and Stan, then later Ben and Mike. Eddie remembered Maggie bringing them snacks, playing jokes on them to scare them when she'd reluctantly let Richie rent a horror movie, then making sure they knew the nightlight was on in the bathroom. But he also remembered her correcting Richie's language, telling him to be quiet, and sighing when he had a new bit of tape on his glasses.

Jessica spoke up again. "She just wants everything to be nice and smooth, you know? And Richie's anything but that."

Eddie swallowed hard and asked, “Why did you tell them about the trial without mentioning it to him?” He didn't want to argue with her by any means, but he couldn't help feeling protective over Richie. As they’d all just witnessed, a murder trial wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to discuss. 

“I thought that it would go a lot more smoothly coming from me.” Jessica said.

Eddie supposed that was fair. "But - why did you even tell them in the first place? Don't you think that was something Richie should have decided to talk about on his own?"

"I was worried about him and didn't know what to do." Jessica admitted sharply.

"Okay." Eddie said, voice softening.

“You know as well as I do that if I left it up to him, they would never hear about it at all. I'm surprised he told me."

"I know." Eddie said quietly.

"They worry about Richie. I don’t think mom understands one thing about him. To be honest, neither do I. Especially not now.” Jessica said, offering a half-smile. The sad kind. “But if I do know one thing, it’s that Richie would never just … _kill someone_. They know that too. They’re just trying to understand what's been happening with him.”

“Richie’s good. He did that to protect Mike. No other reason.” Eddie knew that no one but The Losers would really understand what it meant to do what you have to do to protect your friends.

Jessica nodded. “Yeah, I know.” She smiled a little. “Thanks for being his friend all these years. I know he’s hard to love sometimes.”

Eddie nodded even though he thought the exact opposite.

//

About fifteen minutes after Richie sat in the bathroom with his dad, trying to catch his breath, Maggie came into the bathroom. Richie looked up, breath shortening in his throat again. Maggie stepped past her husband, taking Richie into her embrace. Richie clung onto her, shoulders shaking a little. She had no way of knowing everything. Of course she couldn't. When you grew up, you stopped believing. Derry had blinded everyone who grew old there.

That, and Richie had stopped trying to give her the chance to get to know him. His mom was difficult, but she meant well. Richie knew that, somewhere deep down. Despite them not always seeing eye to eye.

The bathroom was too small for three people to stand in, even if the white walls gave the illusion of more space. Wentworth excused himself from the space, allowing them a moment.

"Richie." Maggie took his hands. She sat across from where he was on the toilet seat, on the edge of the tub. "We can't be here for you if you don't tell us what's happening."

"Yeah, I get that." Richie sniffled. He sat up more. "It's hard to talk about ... fuck, literally everything."

"I know that." Maggie squeezed Richie's hands. "I'm not very good at talking either."

Richie nodded slowly. "Must be where I get it from."

Maggie smiled a little.

"I didn't want to tell you guys that I fucking killed someone. You have to understand that." Richie blurted out after a pause.

"I can't imagine what you're going through right now." Maggie's voice was steady, though her eyes were glassy. "But Richie, I know that you were defending your friend. I know that. You used to cry when your dad killed spiders." Maggie touched her son's cheek gently before retracting her hand. "I don't know what I would have done if I were you. I'm trying to imagine if someone was hurting one of you kids or Went. I might do the same thing."

"I know you would, because you protect the people that you love the best that you know how." Richie really was giving her the benefit of the doubt here. He knew that he was hard to deal with, let alone care about. He deflected everything with a joke. He never shared what was really eating away at him.

"The best that they'll let me."

It was a jab, but it was fair.

Richie looked down toward the ground. He started twisting his hands between his knees. "I want to tell you something else."

"What is it, Richie?" When Richie looked up, her face was full of concern.

"Mom. I'm gay."

Maggie sat up straight. "Why do you always do this?" She sounded exasperated.

Richie's mouth was open, brows knit together. He shook his head. "What am I doing?"

"You're making things worse." Maggie said.

"How is my being honest with you making things worse?" Richie asked.

She threw her hand to the side, making an exasperated sound. "You always make everything more dramatic."

Richie sat back, eyes wide and a breath of a laugh leaving him. "Jesus Christ. I can't believe this."

Maggie practically interrupted him. "First you're a drug addict, then you kill someone, and now you're gay? You know what all three of those things have in common?"

"What?" Richie asked.

"They're sins and people burn in hell for them."

Richie stared at her for a moment. He breathed out a little laugh. Then he let out a bark of a laugh, grinning at her. "Mom, _seriously_? Are you serious right now?"

Maggie took in a deep breath. "I'm Catholic, Richie. What do you expect?" She let out a snort of a laugh after she spoke. 

"I don't know! Something nicer than that." Richie was still laughing a little as he spoke, but his heart was twisting between an incomprehensible amount of emotions.

"Well, I supposed The Pope is more liberal these days." Maggie said thoughtfully.

Richie laughed louder. Maggie was laughing too. Then Richie was laughing more. Their laughter broke off into abrupt quietness.

"I'm sorry, Richie. I shouldn't have said that." Maggie said. He believed her. "I love you." She put her hand on Richie's knee. She was smiling at him, but there were tears in her eyes. She patted his knee, shaking her head after. "It's like I don't even know who you are though." She sniffled a little, then pushed herself up from where she was sitting. "I guess I never really have."

Richie sat in the bathroom, swallowed by the silence that surrounded him after she left the room.

//

A little later, Eddie went down the hall to find Richie. He saw him through the front screen door. He was sitting outside on the steps that led up to the house. There was a faint smell of smoke coming into the house. Eddie opened the screen door, pulling the front door to, so there wasn’t any more of a reason for Richie to get _in trouble_ , because that’s what it felt like.

“Hey. You still smoke?” Eddie asked.

“Trying to quit.” Richie took a long drag, then puffed the smoke out before putting the cigarette out against the brick of the step.

“Good. It's terrible for you.” Eddie was moving to sit down next to Richie. He winced on the way down, groaning softly at the dull ache the pull of his core muscles put on the motion.

“What are you doing, Eds? You shouldn’t - “ But Richie cut himself off.

“You’ll just have to help me up.”

Richie looked over at Eddie, shaking his head a little. “Well this was a shit show. My mom’s crying because I’m a gay murderer.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Jesus.”

“Yeah. I think she might be more upset about me being gay, honestly." Richie grinned a little.

"That's not funny, Richie. Is everything okay?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, I think it is. She was just surprised is all. About all of it." Richie said. "She thinks I do everything on purpose, just to get a reaction out of her. And you know, I get it. That's me. I do that shit, so I can see where she gets it. But why would I do any of that just to embarrass her?"

Richie was looking incredibly _vulnerable_ , in a way that Eddie didn’t see him too often. Eddie put his arm around Richie’s middle. “C’mere.”

“I’m not gonna lean into you, Eds. I weight like three hundred fucking pounds.” Richie said.

“I’m not fragile. I can give you a fucking proper half-hug.” Eddie said.

Richie leaned in to Eddie a little, head tilting to bump against Eddie’s. Eddie could feel his face heating up. He squeezed Richie’s side, ignoring the dull ache from stretching his arm and the blush. Richie was warm. The touch was nice. Until he heard Richie sniffling. Eddie rubbed Richie’s back a little, wearing a deep frown. He would have done anything in the world to stop Richie from feeling the way that he was.

"All your parents want is for you to be happy." Eddie said.

"I know. I know."

"Doesn't excuse the bad things they sometimes say, I'm sure. No one's perfect." Eddie reminded him.

"What the fuck, Eds? You a therapist now or what?" Richie asked.

"Just trying to help."

"Thanks." Richie said quietly.

They were quiet for a long moment, Eddie's hand against Richie's lower back and Richie's head leaning against Eddie's. The silence was _full_. Even if it was nice to sit there, leaning into each other and attempting to absorb the bad and shield each other from any more.

Richie took in a deep breath. "I fucking killed someone, Eddie."

"You didn't just kill _someone_. You killed Henry Bowers, who was probably compelled by an alien clown to try and kill us." Eddie reminded him. "He was trying to kill Mike."

Richie moved away from Eddie a little, shaking his head. "I'm going to throw up again." He pinched the bridge of his nose. Eddie didn't know if he was serious or not.

“Uncle Richie?” Richie’s niece was approaching them from around the side of the house. She was wearing a deep frown. “What’s wrong?”

Richie wiped his face off with the back of his hand. “A lot of shit, kiddo.”

Madison stepped closer. She put a hand on Richie’s knee. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”

Eddie watched her, smiling at the comment.

Richie nodded. “Yeah. It will.” He swallowed hard. “Listen, when I was thirteen I dealt with a lot of shit that I shouldn’t have had to. I’m sure you get that. You have a cell phone for fuck’s sake.”

Madison smiled small.

“But I’m not going to be the one to fuck up your view of the world, okay?” Richie said.

“You couldn’t do that. You always make me laugh and smile.” Madison said.

"Let's just say that I did something really bad to protect someone I cared about." Richie explained as lightly as he could.

"Then it wasn't bad." Madison decided after a pause for consideration.

Richie smiled, putting his hand over hers.

Eddie had felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on the moment, but he couldn’t help the fluttering feeling in his heart at watching. He kind of felt the same way about Richie. Earlier, Eddie just couldn’t stop watching Richie laughing and playing with Ryan in the living room. When Richie looked at Madison, his eyes were just as bright and his smile was making the crinkles under his eyes very prominent. He looked incredibly handsome in a way that was unfamiliar - he looked vulnerable and so goddamn genuine.

"You're great, Uncle Richie." Madison said.

“Hear that, Eds? I’m _great_.” Richie said.

Eddie laughed softly. “Yeah, sure. You’re great to your niece that I heard thank you for the fifty dollars in her birthday card. Don’t let cash define a person, Madison.”

Madison giggled.

“Alright, let’s try to get through this dinner without any more drama.” Richie pushed himself up. “Watch out, shrimp, I’ve gotta help Eddie up.”

“Why do I have to miss the drama?” Madison asked.

“It’s adult stuff.” Richie said.

Madison groaned.

“I know, I know. Shitty answer.”

Eddie was dreading Richie helping him up, so he tried to push himself up, but the concrete of the steps was making him _ache_. Richie bent to help. Big hands were steady on him, almost on his hips. Eddie swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything but that feeling. He used Richie’s arms to pull himself up. It fucking hurt. It hurt badly.

He stood face to face with Richie, on the step above him. He smiled, despite being in pain again, because Richie was grinning at him. 

“I think I pulled a muscle in my back.” Richie said.

.

Dinner was significantly less dramatic. Everyone seemed to be thankful for that. They were sharing stories and jokes like nothing had happened. Hopefully, Richie had been able to talk it through a little bit more with his mother and father in private before Eddie had found him on the porch. Richie’s mother was either good at faking it, or she was over the fact that Richie had told her he was gay too. Eddie hoped she was over it and that the conversation had gone better than what Richie had acted like. She hadn’t disowned him or anything that dramatic. That was better than some of the horror stories that Eddie had heard of.

The food was really good. Eddie felt terrible that he couldn't eat everything on his plate. He even apologized to Mrs. Tozier. He was goddamn exhausted too, yawning up a storm and that made him feel rude too.

“Ice cream before you guys hit the road?” Dr. Tozier asked.

“Dad, first of all, a dentist offering ice cream? Scandalous." Richie said.

"Just brush your teeth afterward." Dr. Tozier said with a laugh.

"I’m sure that Eddie is exhausted.” Richie said. “And to be honest, I am too.”

“Let me at least send you guys a pint of Ben and Jerry’s in case you need a midnight snack.” Dr. Tozier said. “Eddie, come pick which flavor you like best.”

Richie’s attention was on Eddie, and Eddie could feel it. “Eds, you want any help?”

“I’ll help him.” Dr. Tozier said.

Eddie smiled, giving Richie a reassuring look.

It took an embarrassingly long time for Eddie to reach the kitchen, but Dr. Tozier was polite about it, or at least old enough that he understood considering he was using a cane to get around. He felt a little strange being alone with Richie’s dad in a setting that wasn't the small dentist's office in Derry. 

“You need to borrow my cane?” Dr. Tozier asked.

Eddie laughed softly. “Thanks, but no. I have a walker in the car."

“Eddie, can I ask you something?” Dr. Tozier asked. He was giving Eddie a good picture of what Richie was going to look like when he got older. Receding hairline, salt and pepper hair, lots of wrinkles on his forehead, thick glasses that made his blue eyes look bigger. 

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie said.

“Can you … keep an eye on Richie? I understand you’re the one who’s hurt, but Richie - ” Dr. Tozier sighed. “Ever since he came back from rehab, I’ve just been worried about him. He says that it helped him, but he stays so distant from us. I know that it’s partly because he lives across the country and he’s got all these shows. I just wish when he was on the East Coast for them, he would stop in, you know?” He shook his head. “Richie’s always been so secretive. And that part of him that I don’t know? It’s the part that worries me the most.”

Eddie tried not to look taken aback by all of this. Dr. Tozier didn’t say that he was disappointed in Richie or even that he didn’t like the things he did. He was worried about his son’s well-being.

“Maybe since he’s your friend, he’ll open up to you a little bit more.” Dr. Tozier said.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Eddie promised. It had honestly been part of the reason that he agreed to this whole thing. Eddie figured that Richie needed him just about as much as he needed Richie. And if Richie’s dad was trusting him with that too? It made Eddie feel like this was all coming together for a bigger reason than he knew yet.

.

Richie was closing the door and saying his goodbyes. Eddie stepped outside as he watched Richie hug his family. He hugged his sister and then ruffled her hair, which she fussed at him over. He squeezed Madison. He hugged Ryan and picked him up, even though Richie was groaning because he was ‘too old for that shit’. Richie hugged his dad for a long time. Eddie tried not to listen as Wentworth told Richie to take care of himself and handed him the key to the lake house.

Richie hugged his mom, who was looking a little tearful. She put her hands on his face. “Richie, I’ll try to be more understanding if you’ll just talk to me more.”

“Deal.” Richie said and kissed her on the cheek.

Eddie tried not to watch, but seeing Richie with his family made Eddie’s heart warm and swell. Richie clearly loved his niece and nephew a lot. A family like that wasn’t something Eddie ever longed for or understood. A family unit capable of what they had just been through tonight. The warmth, the drama, the laughs, and normalcy. He liked it for Richie though. 

Richie looked at Eddie from the porch steps and Eddie could have sworn he saw a tear in his eye. He was smiling though, and it was a warm one. It made Eddie twist with the desire. Eddie smiled back, heart sinking deep in his chest because he knew he couldn’t think that. Not now. But god, he wanted Richie. Especially when Richie approached and put his arm over Eddie’s shoulders. Richie was grinning, a hint of a laugh under his breath as he walked with Eddie.

Eddie didn’t say anything until they reached the car.

“Richie, I …”

“What?” Richie was still half-grinning. “What is it, Eds?” His face fell a little.

“Nothing. Just - I’m proud of you.” And that was the truth even if there was more behind it.

“What for?” Richie asked.

“For being honest with your family.”

“Yeah well, sorry about the Tozier family soap opera.”

Eddie smiled. “It’s okay. I’m just glad this didn’t ruin my chances at this recovery slash lake vacation.”

Richie laughed. He squeezed Eddie’s shoulder softly.

Eddie knew that realistically there were going to be two beds in their hotel room, but he couldn’t help wanting to share with Richie again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie is literally in the middle of the family drama. How is he not already Richie's boyfriend? More build up to come. There are a few more obstacles until they can get to that point.
> 
> A link to the full Eddie's Not Dead Celebratory Playlist: [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6i0DosXCu964WdI5Raf50Q)


	7. In A Fucking 7-Eleven Parking Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more fun in the car with music. Eddie wants to call Myra. Then finally, the arrival at the lake house.
> 
> Warnings: Talk about Eddie’s wound being gross, but not in any detail. Some internalized homophobia, also just some mild general homophobia, abusive relationships, mentions of past drug abuse.

_You could still be what you want to  
_ _What you said you were when I met you_

 _  
__\- Daughter_

* * *

The following morning, Richie must have woken up while Eddie was in the shower. His eyes were barely open and he wasn’t even wearing his glasses yet as he sipped his coffee cup. He was sitting in the desk chair with his legs all spread out, still in his boxers. Eddie tried not to look too hard at how far his boxers had ridden up his thighs, the dusting of hair on pale skin, and think about how he’d like to sit in Richie’s lap. 

Eddie was standing in the middle of the room, half dressed and chest bandaged. “Hey. You awake enough to bandage me up?” Eddie asked.

Richie took a long chug of his coffee. “Mm.”

Eddie looked at anything but Richie, and in the process he noticed that on the desk was the pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream that Dr. Tozier had been nice enough to give them and it was _completely eaten_. “What the fuck?” Eddie demanded.

“What?” Richie asked, rubbing his eye with one hand.

“You ate my fucking ice cream, dickhead.” Eddie said.

Richie looked at him, eyes wide and _caught_. “It barely fucking fit in the freezer. Mini Fridges are compact, Eds. It was gonna melt. We couldn’t have taken it with us.”

“You could have at least offered me some.” Eddie said.

“You were asleep! What was I supposed to do?” Richie asked.

“Wake me up! _Asshole_.” Eddie ducked back into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth while he waited for Richie to bandage his back. 

He was packing up his bathroom bag when Richie came in. Richie was looking a bit more awake and he was wearing his glasses. “I wasn’t about to wake you up for ice cream. You’d have killed me.” He explained while he washed his hands.

Eddie just glared at him. He turned to face the mirror, hands firm on the counter. 

Richie stood behind him, face scrunched up a little. “Hey, not to be a bummer, but you’re bleeding.” He said. “It’s pretty gross back here.”

Eddie had noticed that his bandages from the day before were ‘pretty gross’ (as if he wasn’t embarrassed enough). He had moved around a lot more than his wounds were used to, so he was blaming it on that. “Yeah.” Eddie sighed softly. He didn’t like that Richie had to clean up the wound, but Richie wasn’t complaining about it. He was just cleaning it intently, if Eddie's view from the mirror was any indication. 

“Eddie, seriously, it’s looking rough back here.” Richie said. “Your skin is hot.”

Eddie groaned softly under his breath. The puncture in his chest was all stitches and bruises and new forming skin tissue. It was all _looking rough_. He knew that the back was bigger, worse off than the front, just from the size of the bandages. He really hoped it wasn’t much worse than the front. He didn’t want Richie to throw up from having to clean his wound up. “If it keeps looking rough, I’ll call the doctor.”

“That’s a good idea.” Richie gently patted Eddie’s shoulder. “There we go. Packaged and ready to ship.”

Eddie smiled. “Thanks.”

“My turn to shower. We gotta hit the road.”

Richie took his coffee in the bathroom with him when he went back the second time. Eddie told him it was disgusting. “It’s like a shower beer, except a shower coffee.” Richie explained.

That really didn’t make it any better. Eddie held back explaining all the germs that were in a bathroom and how they could get into the drink. It was hardly worth arguing about when he knew he was right and Richie just didn't care.

Eddie had charged his phone overnight. He picked it up and sucked in a deep breath, half expecting it to explode when he turned it on. He had over 200 missed calls and nearly 100 voicemails. He sighed out, scrolling through to see if any of them weren’t Myra. His boss had called more than once and left a message too. Eddie didn’t know if he was ready to face that either.

His thumb hovered over Myra’s contact, heart racing in his chest.

He cleared the screen and shook his head.

_Coward._

He wanted to ask Bill if he’d gotten back to England safe and sound, but realized he didn’t have his number. Richie must have. He must have had all the Loser’s numbers. Eddie only had Mike’s from that first phone call and Stan's that he'd left in the hospital room.

It didn’t take long for Richie to shower. He came out with just a towel wrapped around him, hanging low on his hips. Eddie deliberately looked away. Eddie focused intently on his phone, but it was just on his home screen. He could see Richie getting dressed in his peripheral vision.

“Hey, Rich? Can I get everyone’s number from your phone?” Eddie asked.

“That’s private information, buddy.” Richie said.

“Shut up.” Eddie said. “And actually, I don’t even have your number and I’m about to live with you, so that too.”

Eddie only allowed himself to look when Richie was fully clothed. He was dressed in the most ridiculous shirt that Eddie had seen him in so far. It was Hawaiian print and there were Corgi’s within the floral design.

“Forget the phone numbers - Where did you even find that shirt?” Eddie asked.

“Hot Topic.”

“You’re a forty year old man.”

“Yeah? And?” Richie grinned wider.

“How do you even have all of those clothes in that duffle bag? I’ve seen more ridiculous t-shirts just this week than in my entire life.” Eddie said, exasperated. The truth was, he hated and loved the shirts at the same time. 

“I’ve been to the store a couple of times. Still need to do laundry soon.” Richie was stuffing his clothes into the said duffle bag as he spoke.

“Yeah, I’m running out of clean underwear.” Eddie admitted.

“No commando for Eduardo?” Richie asked.

Eddie felt his skin turning red. He ignored Richie though.

.

It was time for day two of their road trip. Richie let Eddie control the music since Richie had full reign yesterday. And Eddie had finally turned his phone back on. It was about twenty minutes in when Richie commented that Eddie’s music was sad. Eddie had never really thought about it, but he supposed that he did like a lot of sad songs.

“God, The Smiths. Eddie? Really? Still?” Richie asked.

“Shut up. You liked The Smiths.” Eddie said.

“Not like you and Bill. You two used to have jerk off contests to Morrisey.” Richie said.

“We fucking did not.” Eddie said, disgruntled. 

“Bill cried when they broke up. He was _eleven_. What did he even know?” Richie said.

“I don’t want to hear it from you. You’re the biggest crybaby on the planet.” Eddie said.

“Am not.” Richie argued weakly, like maybe that had hurt his feelings a little.

Eddie pulled up his playlists, scrolling to find a good one. “We can change the mood. I’ve got some playlists of my own.”

“Oh?” Richie asked, looking excited at the idea.

Eddie decided on a playlist. He hit shuffle on his phone, and the first song that came on was by Outkast. He wasn’t sure if Richie would like this playlist, but there weren’t any sad songs on this one. It was called ‘Gym’, which wasn’t nearly as creative as Richie’s titles. He liked to listen to it while he ran ... back when he was allowed to do that. Running was one of the only things that Eddie had allowed himself to do in adulthood that he wasn’t ‘supposed to’. Running and working out was his very few minor acts of rebellion.

“You like this?” Richie asked.

“Do you?” Eddie asked.

“It’s fine. I’m just surprised .”

Richie claimed that the next one was more Eddie appropriate. Eddie had no idea what he even meant by that. Although Richie was all worked up again when ‘Push It’ came on.

“What’s wrong with me liking this?” Eddie asked.

“Nothing!” Richie said. 

Eddie kind of liked this game though. He was really glad that he’d picked this playlist because Richie was shocked and scandalized every time something new came on. It made for good entertainment for awhile, until Richie got bored with it and silence settled between them.

Eddie watched the buildings that lined the highway for a little while, passing the window in a blur. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he needed to make that stupid phone call to Myra. What was he even supposed to say to her? _Sorry I didn’t call you. I died and now I’m gay_.

Richie let out a dramatic groan.

Eddie jerked his head, snapped out of his thoughts. “What?” Eddie asked.

“I feel like shit.” Richie said, clutching the steering wheel. “All this driving is killing my back and my head hurts from the sun.”

“I’m the one who’s been sitting in the car for hours with a hole in my chest.” Eddie reminded him.

“God, are you ever going to let me complain again without bringing that up?” Richie asked.

“No.” Eddie said. “Also, if you took care of yourself, you wouldn’t feel like shit.”

“What the fuck? I do!” Richie said.

Eddie looked down at the middle console where the cup holders were full of old, half-full iced coffees. “The garbage in your car disagrees.”

“Whatever. Iced coffee is an essential part of the homosexual nutrition.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “First of all, didn’t you just come out like two days ago? And second of all, it wouldn’t kill you to at least throw the cups away.”

“First of all, I was born this way, baby.” Richie said. “And second of all, they’re not hurting anything.” 

“Actually, they’re pretty rank. The car smells like shit.” Eddie said. “I’m glad you’re really taking your culture seriously though.”

“I am. Also that’s what the air freshener is for.” Richie reached to flick the leaf-shaped air freshener that was hanging on the mirror.

“So it smells like pine needles and shit?” Eddie asked.

Richie groaned again. “Who cares?”

“Me. I have to be in this car. The Rent-A-Car place will probably care too.”

“Hand over my shades, please.” Richie said, ignoring him.

Eddie knew that Richie changing the subject meant that Eddie had won. He grabbed Richie’s sunglasses from the case stashed in the middle compartment. He handed them over, exchanged them for Richie’s glasses.

“Can you see?” Eddie asked cautiously.

“Yes. These are prescription sunglasses because I’m fucking old.” Richie said. Then he commented on the song, “Oh my god, is this DMX? Who are you?”

They sat in silence for awhile and Eddie almost drifted off. He blinked his eyes open, head shaking a little.

“Not telling you what to do, but tomorrow you need to fucking relax, Eds.” Richie said.

Eddie’s arms were crossed over his chest and he huffed out a noised like the anger of a mighty dragon blowing flames.

“Don’t be mad.” Richie said.

“I’m _not_. I'm just frustrated."

"Same thing."

"Is not."

"Yeah, it is."

They argued over the proper definition of angry for a little while longer. The truth was, there was very little that Richie could do to make him actually angry. Nothing he was frustrated about was Richie's fault. His back hurt and other parts of his torso hurt that he couldn't even pin point for sure. He had been semi nauseous for the last thirty minutes. He was absolutely dreading making the phone call he needed to make to Myra and was anxious about what would come after that. He was going to a brand new place to stay for an indefinite amount of time. So no, none of it was Richie's fault.

They stopped at a convenience store. Richie was hungry and said his back still hurt so he needed to stretch. Eddie refused to eat anything that had been cooked at a convenience store. While Richie went inside, Eddie stood by the car. He looked at his phone again, finger hovering over Myra’s contact again. He pressed down and held the phone to his ear. His heart was beating out of his chest and he felt like he was going to throw up. Was in a 7-Eleven parking lot the best time to do this? Probably not. But he was too chicken shit up to this point, so here he was.

“Hello?”

Eddie froze at the sound of her voice. He looked down at the asphalt, dirty, grimy, covered in tiny bits of trash and gum. Eddie shuttered.

“Eddie? Is that you?” 

“Yes, Myra. It’s Eddie.” He forced himself to say.

“Oh my god, Eddie! Where are you? Eddie? Why haven’t you called me?” Her voice was shrill and thick with tears.

Eddie braced himself for it to get worse. “I’ve been in the hospital. I got hurt.”

“I knew it was bad for you to leave me like this! Eddie, you need to come home right now so I can take care of you! What happened? Oh my god.”

Eddie closed his eyes, heart still beating quickly in his chest. “I’m not coming back.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Eddie. Of course you’re coming back.”

“No, I’m not.”

“But Eddie, you - ”

“Myra, listen to me.” Eddie cut her off. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not coming back because I realized that neither of us have been very happy. And - and that’s got a lot to do with me.”

“What do you mean? I _am_ happy, Eddie. What are you talking about? Where is all this coming from?” Myra’s voice sounded panicked and shrill. “Eddie, of course you’re coming back.”

“I’m _not_ happy, Myra. I know you can’t understand this, because I haven’t talked to you and that’s my fault. I just can't do this anymore.”

“You can't do this to me!” Myra sounded like she was crying, which did pull at the guilt that was threatening to bubble over like a hot boiling tea kettle and bring this all to a screeching halt. Eddie didn’t let it.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t called you. You don’t deserve to worry about me when I don’t want you to.” Eddie said.

“I need you. You need me. Who else is going to take care of you?”

“I don't _want_ to be taken care of. I’m going to take care of myself.” Eddie said firmly.

She was silent for a pause. Eddie had never spoken to her like this before. He had never really been assertive. Sure, there were plenty of fights where he shouted at her that ended with him apologizing no matter who was wrong, but Eddie had never _really_ stood up for himself.

“Please, Eddie.” Her voice was pleading. “I’ve always been what’s best for you.”

Eddie looked up. He could spot Richie through the glass of the convenience store. He was big and in that ridiculous shirt. Eddie thought about when they were kids and sometimes when he had been scared, whether it be for good reason or not, Richie grounded him. When they jumped into the quarry for the first time and Richie told him it was going to be okay. When Richie talked him into standing up on the pegs of the back wheels of Richie’s bicycle and they pedaled down to The Barrens like that. When they thought they were about to die in Neibolt and Richie was touching him, talking him out of being so goddamn terrified. Eddie remembered what Richie said when they were down in the sewers, _You’re braver than you think_.

“No. You aren’t.” Eddie said.

“But Eddie, I need you.” Myra said desperately. “I - I won’t ever forgive you, Eddie. I’ll be so hurt. You can’t do this to me. Why are you doing this?”

“Because - Because - ” Eddie couldn’t spit it out. He turned, body curling into the side of the car some. He closed his eyes tightly, breath getting shorter.

“This isn’t what you want, Eddie. You want to come home where you belong. You know you need me.” Myra went on and on about how much Eddie _needed_ her, about how much she did for him, about how happy they were.

“I’m gay!” Eddie blurted out.

Myra was silent on the line for so long that Eddie almost thought she hung up. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

“That doesn’t make any sense, Eddie. People don’t just turn gay.” Myra said finally. “I know I’m not the most beautiful woman, Eddie, but that doesn't mean - ”

“It’s not about how attractive you are. It’s me.” Eddie cut her off.

"When we have sex you always finish." Myra attempted to reason.

Eddie did not have time to go down that road. He didn’t have time to point out that they hadn’t had sex in almost two years, and even before that, it hadn’t been often. He didn't want to make her feel even worse about the whole thing, but she needed to understand that it had nothing to do with her at all. "Myra, please just understand, if you care about me at all that I have to do this for myself." 

“Do you understand how humiliating this is for me?" Myra started. "My mother always said - ”

“You know what? I’m not going to listen to what you and your mother say about me behind my back.” Eddie interrupted. He leaned against the car, a sigh leaving him and his eyes closed again. “I really don’t want this to be any worse than it already is, so please, stop trying to make it.”

“We can fix this, Eddie.”

“Myra, there’s not - there’s not anything to fix.” Eddie struggled with the words, but he finished up strong. Whether she was talking about their marriage or _him_ , he wasn’t sure. But either way, it wasn’t going to work. There was nothing either of them could do to change anything.

“If you don’t come home and something bad happens to me, it’ll be your fault.” Myra had a voice thick with tears.

“I - I’m hanging up.”

“No - no - Eddie, please, don’t! We can figure this out -”

But he hung up the phone and turned it back off. He sat down inside the car, swallowing hard, eyes stinging with tears. He had wasted so much of his life believing everything that Myra said to him. Her words always did remind him of his mothers, now more than ever. He didn't understand why he felt like he deserved to believe them. He knew that he didn't have to rationalize what she was saying and settle for less than what he thought he deserved. Part of him was very relieved to be done. Still, it was difficult to just walk away from the familiarity of the last ten years. 

//

Richie was approaching the car, getting ready to make a big exclamation about how he got them slushies to make up for eating all the ice cream the night before, even though slushies and ice cream weren’t the same. He had an argument ready about how they were close enough if he needed it. Then he saw that Eddie was on the phone. He froze when he heard Eddie say Myra’s name. “I’m gay.” Left Eddie’s mouth and Richie felt incredibly guilty that he’d overheard any of that. He turned around to go back inside the convenient store so that Eddie didn’t think he heard. But he had heard. Fuck if the drive going to be awkward.

His heart was racing in his chest though. The possibility that Eddie had feelings for him just became that much more real. It was a fucked up thing to think about, but he couldn't help it. He tried to force his brain to think about anything else. His hands were cold from holding the slushies for so long. He looked back through the window to see that Eddie was off the phone and he was back in the car.

Richie went back outside. He sat one of the slushies on the top of the car to open the door. When he climbed in, he went to hand Eddie’s over to him. “Hey, Eds, I got slushies.”

Eddie looked up, doe eyes all wide and red. Richie’s shoulders slumped when he saw that he had been crying. “Are you okay?” Richie asked.

“I called Myra.” Eddie said.

“It didn’t go well?” Richie asked.

“Not particularly.” Eddie said.

“Well, the slushie will help. We should probably eat real food though.”

“I’m not hungry.” Eddie said quietly.

Richie would have done _anything_ to never have to see Eddie upset like this. He frowned, putting the drinks in the cup holders (the ones he’d cleaned out per Eddie’s request when they pulled into the convenience store). He put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He felt Eddie shrink away, but Richie didn’t let him. He squeezed Eddie’s shoulder firmly. “You told me you want to be in control of your life. You did something hard, but you’re going to be okay.”

Eddie nodded a little. He looked over at Richie, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile. “I always thought that it was Bill that made me feel brave. Maybe because Bill was the leader. Maybe we all brought out the best in each other in our own ways that we’ll never really understand. But I know that _you_ made me feel brave. You have a way of … of freeing the things that people keep hidden away.”

Richie was taken aback by the words. He swallowed hard, emotions swelling in his chest. “Eddie, you don’t need me to be brave.”

“Maybe not, but I’m glad I have you.” Eddie said.

Richie brought his hand back, smiling a little to himself. A small noise like a laugh came from his throat. Richie shook his head. “Yeah, well, if I did that for you, you did it back for me.”

“So we’re even then.” Eddie was wearing a smile, which made Richie feel much better. After a pause, “I think that overall, this trip has been … good.”

“How can you say that? You were literally impaled and died, dude.” Richie said.

“It was time for a change. I got the courage up to talk to Myra and it sucked and it was a in a fucking 7-Eleven parking lot, but it’s step one of doing things for myself.”

“I think this whole thing sucked.” Richie grabbed his slushie to take a big drink from.

Richie could see Eddie looking at him from the corner of his eye.

“What?” Richie asked.

“You think it sucked?” Eddie asked.

“Yep.” Richie said. “I’ve poured my fuckin’ heart out all week. It’s been shitty.”

“I think you needed to.” Eddie said.

Richie rolled his eyes.

“And you needed to see your family, Richie.” Eddie said.

“Overall, it could have been away worse considering dad handed the keys over to me after he knew I killed a guy.” Richie decided.

“And your mom isn’t bad either.” Eddie reminded him.

Richie shook his head. “You know, when I told mom I was gay, she said that I was just trying to get more attention. She was like, ‘First you’re on drugs, then you murder someone, and now you’re gay. You know what all three of those things have in common?’ And I was like, ‘What?’ and she was like, ‘They’re sins and people burn in hell for them.’ And I just laughed at her.” Richie was grinning a little at the thought. “She started laughing too. I guess she meant what she said at first, but realized how _crazy_ it all sounded. We laughed together before she got all teary-eyed and said that it was like she didn’t even know me.”

“Fucking hell, Richie. I’m sorry.” Eddie said.

“No, it’s okay. I think we’re good.” Richie said.

“They love you a lot.” Eddie said.

Richie supposed that Eddie was right.

But Richie was too busy contemplating why he was so goddamn closed off to everyone, especially since Eddie said he brought out the opposite in people. Maybe he just didn’t want to burden everyone with his shit. He didn’t want people to find out things about him that he kept buried deep, deep in the dirt of who he was because he didn't like them himself. Richie was calculated in what he revealed to people, giving them small bits of himself, but never enough to really understand him. But just this week he had let out his _dirty little secret_ and so far, no one had laughed in his face or abandoned him because of it. Was it so bad? Did it really suck, letting the people who actually gave a shit about him know who he was? He was starting to think that Eddie might give some of the shit that was buried under that dirt a chance to breathe without hating him.

Even though Eddie said he wasn’t hungry, he agreed to get something to eat. Richie bought his lunch. Richie was able to get a few chucks out of Eddie, so really, he’d done his job. They were back on the road within the hour. The sun was still incredibly bright, and Richie went back to wearing his shades. He played his music, trying to stay within the realm of what Eddie wouldn’t hate.

//

They drove through a highway with farm fields on both sides. The windows were down and the sun was touching Eddie’s arm. He sat back, squinting and wishing he had sunglasses too. He was reminded of the day that they went to Mike’s farm and Mike’s grandpa let them see all the animals. Eddie remembered petting a lamb, how soft and sweet it had been. He had enjoyed that day. Little Eddie, who was supposed to be allergic to animals and hay and grass and pollen and everything that was on the farm. Eddie didn’t sneeze once that day.

Eyes watched the fields race by, some empty, some with crops, some with -

“Look, there’s cows!” Richie said. Eddie smiled.

The fields disappeared into patches of trees. There were thick tall pines and low hanging oaks. The lake house was in the middle of the woods. Eddie wasn’t particularly fond of the idea, thinking of movies like Deliverance and Southern Comfort. Not that he’d actually watched those movies, but he knew the premise. Also, they weren’t anywhere near the south, but it was still _the premise_. Sunlight was peeking through the full leaves of the trees, wildflowers and ferns were along the roadside. It was nice, really.

Still, Eddie was a little relieved when he saw other beautiful houses, even if they were yards apart.

“Ben built this?” Eddie said.

“Yeah, isn’t that wild?” Richie asked.

The lake house was even nicer in person than in the photos. The slanting lines of the architecture were sharp in comparison to the wild trees it was tucked in between. Eddie still thought it was crazy that they were using it as his health care center until he was healed.

“Let me know if you need help. I’ll get the luggage.” Richie said when he turned off the car.

Eddie was going a little slower, partly injury related. He was stiff and achy. Richie was getting their luggage out of the trunk. Eddie felt useless standing there waiting, but at the same time, it was sort of entertaining having Richie as his personal manservant. 

“I can take something.” Eddie said.

Richie handed Eddie over the keys to the house and Richie’s duffle bag. Eddie could deal with that. He was thankful that there weren’t any steps leading up to the house though. He didn't want Richie to have to carry his fucking walker inside because that completely defeated the point of the walker.

The inside of the house was just as incredible as the outside. It was very big and very clean. The wooden floors were shiny and spotless, couch crisp and looked unused. The space was open; the sitting room opened up into the kitchen, the kitchen had sliding doors in the back that led out to a back porch.

The only thing wrong was that it was stifling hot from being shut up and not in use. “God, I’m already sweating my balls off.” Richie said. His first mission was turning the A/C on.

It was unspoken that they both picked a room downstairs and side by side so that Richie wasn’t too far away from Eddie if something happened. Eddie was glad that Richie didn’t say anything, because he was already fed up with the idea that he had to ask Richie for help.

Eddie did let Richie put his suitcases in the room he was staying in.

“I’m exhausted.” Eddie admitted.

“Take a nap. I might take one too.”

"Don't tell me what to do." Eddie gave Richie a teasing smile before he turned toward the bed.

"Oh, come on. It's just a suggestion!" Richie said, shaking his head as he left Eddie alone in the room.

Eddie ran a hand over the mattress, then looked up at the wall. There were family photos in a cluster and Eddie went to inspect them. There was one of Richie, younger than Eddie remembered him. He had a mouthful of teeth that were too big for his face, which was dusted in freckles. He was holding the family’s cat in his arms like a baby. Eddie grinned. There was another one of Richie’s parents, a lot less wrinkles that they’d had when Eddie saw them yesterday. Maggie was wearing a floral dress and Wentworth a suit and tie. Jessica was almost hidden by Maggie’s dress she was so little. There was one of Jessica with two long braids, arms outstretched in the yard like maybe she’d just done a cartwheel. Another had all four of them in it, Richie probably around the age that Eddie had met him. He was giving a thumbs up in the picture. They looked like they were dressed for church. Eddie’s attention went back to the one where Richie was small and covered in freckles. Hetraced the frame with his index finger, chest warm. He let out a contented hum before he turned back to the bed for his nap.

.

When Eddie woke from his nap, light was still coming through the window, a lower glow as the sun sank in the sky. He got p, feeling refreshed even though he was still a little achy. He found Richie outside on the porch talking to his phone, bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon sunlight. Eddie moved closer to see if Richie had actually lost it or if he was talking to someone.

He opened the door and Richie turned around quickly. “Eds! Say hey to Bill.”

“Oh, hey!” Eddie said.

“Hey, Eddie.” Bill was on the screen.

“Hi, Bill.” Eddie peeked over Richie’s shoulder. “How’s England?”

“Good.” Bill said.

“I was just making sure that Richie wasn’t out here talking to himself.” Eddie said.

Bill laughed.

“You never know.” Richie said with a shrug.

“You feeling okay, Eddie?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little achy. Being out of the hospital and moving around has probably been rough on me.” Eddie explained.

“You should take it easy. Make sure you get healed properly.” Bill said.

“I’m going to.” Eddie tried not to be annoyed at the concern.

“What the fuck? Bill gets that? Did I not tell you the same thing?” Richie asked.

“Bill said it nicely.”

“Fuck off.” Richie said. “Tell Audra she’s the only Denbrough I love.”

“I’m not telling her that.”

“Tell her I love her though.” Richie insisted.

“Tell her yourself.” Bill turned the camera around to Audra, who was across the room in a chair on her phone.

“Audra! I love you!” Richie said loudly.

She looked up, grinning brightly. She ran a hand through her hair, then flipped it over her shoulder. “Thank you, sir. And thank you all my adoring fans.” She did an old hollywood voice.

Richie laughed loudly. “Hell yes!”

Bill was grimacing when he flipped the camera back around. “You’re a horrible influence. Eddie, don’t let him do this to you.”

Eddie could hear Audra laughing in the background. Eddie shook his head. “I know better.”

“Thank god someone does.” Bill said with a grin.

“I’m gonna hop off here because Eddie and I are gonna have to figure out dinner.” Richie said.

“It’s always good to talk to you, Bill.” Eddie said, giving a little wave before they hung up.

Eddie went back inside. He was being nosy, looking around the living room a little. It was going to be really weird staying somewhere that wasn’t really his to call home, so he figured he may as well get used to it. He inspected the kitchen for what kind of things they had to work with. It turned out the kitchen was fully stocked with everything they needed to cook aside from the food part. A trip to the store was necessary tomorrow. He didn’t know if he trusted Richie to go on his own.

He heard the door open and turned around.

“Sleep good?” Richie asked.

“Yeah.” Eddie said. “We need to go to the store tomorrow.”

Richie groaned. “I hate the grocery store.” He leaned against the island in the middle of the kitchen. “What do you want to eat tonight? Chinese food?”

“I could live without ever eating Chinese food again.” Although it was realistically barely two weeks ago, Eddie felt like eating at Jade of the Orient was a lifetime ago. Still, the memory of the creatures crawling out of the fortune cookies was vivid, not to mention all the stress and drinking related vomiting he’d done afterward.

“Agreed.” Richie laughed. “Pizza?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

//

Group Text: **Losers Never Say Die**

 **Richie** : Guys. Can you believe Eddie listens to DMX?  
 **Eddie** : Really only when I’m working out.  
[Ben liked this]  
 **Richie** : Eddie listens to DMX while he works out. In what world?  
 **Stan** : Who?  
[Richie disliked this]  
 **Mike** : Wow.  
 **Bev** : Don't let Richie bully you about music, Eds.  
 **Richie** : I'm not bullying him!  
 **Bill** : You would bully someone over music.  
 **Ben** : You have bullied someone over music. Me.  
 **Stan** : Raise your hand if you've ever been personally victimized by Richie about music.  
Ben: ✋  
Bev: ✋  
Bill: ✋  
Mike: ✋  
Eddie: ✋  
 **Richie** : Ok so Stan knows how to reference Mean Girls but don't know who DMX is?  
 **Stan** : What???

"Stan is doing this on purpose I swear to god." Richie said.

Eddie grinned a little.

//

Later that evening, they were out on the back porch in the blue light of dusk and a glow of string lights that were along the deck. The sound of bugs and frogs reminded Richie of being in The Barrens. It was peaceful. He was happily laid back on one of the lounge chairs with a pizza box in his lap. Eddie was in the chair next to him, gazing out at the lake. Richie was looking at Eddie, unable to help himself. He didn’t know how long bearded Eddie was going to be in his life, but he was getting to like him a lot.

“We need bug spray.” Eddie said.

Richie smiled to himself. “I’ll add it to the list.”

“Can you cook?” Eddie asked.

“Yes.” Richie said.

Eddie looked over at him skeptically. “Like real meals?”

“Kind of.” Richie insisted. “I’m not an Iron Chef, but I have taken care of myself for like twenty years.”

“Okay, okay.” Eddie said. “I was hoping one of us would be able to.”

"You don’t cook?” Richie asked. He was a little surprised.

“Not really.” Eddie admitted. “I’ve never had to very often.”

Richie supposed that was a perk of being married, or at least he assumed so. “We’ll figure it out.” Richie said. “Or we’ll just eat pizza until you’re all straightened out.”

“We’re not just eating pizza.” Eddie said.

Richie was wondering how long this was going to last. How long until Eddie was straightened out. He would stay there with Eddie as long as he needed to. The dread of the day that it was over loomed over him already and they had just gotten there. His eyes found Eddie again, heart doing a little drop into his gut at the idea of not spending all his time with Eddie.

“Fine.” Richie grinned a little, even though he had made himself sad.

“This is really good though.” Eddie said.

“Good.” Richie said. “I was like how the fuck am I going to find gluten free pizza? Turns out that everywhere has it.”

“I don’t think that gluten would kill me, but it’s better not to push it.” Eddie said.

“Gluten is made up.”

“It is fucking not!” Eddie said. “Tell that to people who have celiac disease.”

“Sounds made up too.”

“It’s not fucking made up, Richie. People die from it.” Eddie was exasperated. “It causes fucking coronary artery disease and cancer in the small intestines.” Richie had started laughing half-way through Eddie’s explanation, and Eddie must have realized that he was just saying that stuff to piss him off. “Fuck off.”

Richie just grinned at him. He kept smiling to himself as they stayed silent, enjoying one of the last summer nights. The air was pleasant and warm, wrapping around them like a blanket. Richie could see stars through some of the tree limbs, little reflections on the lake. He hadn't seen this many stars since he'd moved to LA, where the cities lights were too bright to see them. He supposed there were perks to being in the middle of nowhere in New England.

“You went to rehab?” Eddie asked, out of the fucking blue.

Richie hesitated. He didn't really want to explain it to Eddie that it had started off as fun and just sometimes at a party. Then, it was doing lines off of a bathroom toilet in the club to stave off nerves before a show. Finally, it evolved into a full-fledged every day thing before he even realized it. He didn't want to rehash that night that he was so fucked up that he'd fallen down and hurt himself, the morning after when his manager found him. He didn't want to talk about how much withdraw sucked.

“Yeah.” Richie knew that Eddie was asking for an explanation without demanding one like his curious, detail-oriented ass usually did. 

“But you’re good now?” Eddie asked.

“I’m good.” Richie said. “I’ve clearly been drinking since I got to Derry, but alcohol wasn’t the problem.”

“Okay.”

“Are you judging me?” Richie asked.

“No.” Eddie said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Richie swallowed hard, because he couldn't remember the last time that someone just wanted to know if he was okay. It meant a lot coming from Eddie. He believed Eddie too. He trusted Eddie with those parts of himself that he didn’t know if he could ever trust anyone else with. Maybe the other Losers, but even so, it was only Stan that he had really gotten the chance to talk to about anything that had gone wrong with him.

“I’m hanging in there.” Richie said.

“You would let me know if you weren’t, right? Because you can.” Eddie reminded him.

“I’ll try.” Richie said.

“I can live with that for now.”

The faint glow of the bathroom lights lit the wooden hallway when they went inside. The house was dark with the deeper blue of night. Richie and Eddie met in the hallway on the trip to their respective bedrooms.

“Well, goodnight.” Eddie said.

Richie didn’t know what it was about them saying goodnight that was making him feel so sad. His heart sunk deep in his chest as Eddie spoke. “Goodnight.” Richie smiled, looking down at the space in the hall between them. He swallowed back the urge to say something more, something worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie’s dumb corgi shirt: [here](https://www.hottopic.com/product/tropical-corgi-vibes-short-sleeve-woven-button-up-hot-topic-exclusive/11921587.html?mr:trackingCode=E11B4F30-2F9C-E911-8102-0050569428E8&mr:referralID=NA&mr:device=c&mr:adType=plaonline&mr:ad=106010920586&mr:keyword=&mr:match=&mr:tid=pla-517130052885&mr:ploc=9009238&mr:iloc=&mr:store=&mr:filter=517130052885&cm_mmc=CSE-_-GGL-_-PLA-_-DMY-_-PLA-Shopping-EverythingBrand&kpid=go_cmp-599939166_adg-28654596746_ad-106010920586_pla-517130052885_dev-c_ext-_prd-11921587&gclid=CjwKCAjw1v_0BRAkEiwALFkj5t1F6I99a-Agb6-iITG0btaR8Ir4LRl_NI1yoGAsv7Vx8LuIj1-JZBoC920QAvD_BwE)


	8. Time May Change Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is LONG. A lot of time passes in it.
> 
> Eddie gets his life lined out. Richie debates on getting his life lined out. These two adjust to life together and don't want the domestic bliss to end.
> 
> [Ya’ll know this vine?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=guMisvFyRVw)  
> Trust that it’s important for you to have seen it.
> 
> Warnings for: repression and internalized homophobia, abusive relationships, addiction.

_But don't chicken out, it's all good  
_ _You're allowed to be what you could_

\- Wolf Alice

* * *

The next morning, Eddie woke up feeling pleasantly rested, aside from some expected aching. He was surprised to find that his body let him sleep in late again, much less in a strange place. The bed was so cozy, the blankets so fluffy. Eddie had really never let himself just enjoy pulling the blankets up to his chin and being a cocoon. He was sure that the pain killers had something to do with sleeping well and feeling so comfortable.

When he finally padded out of the room, sun was streaming in through the large windows into the open space. The smell of coffee was floating through the house. When he made his way to the kitchen, Richie was already there. Richie's hair was standing in different directions, his glasses were crooked, and when he turned around, Eddie found out that his boxers were hanging low and he had pulled back on his button up from the day before without bothering to close even one button. Eddie sat at the kitchen island, chin in his palm and trying not to be so shameless about the way his eyes were dragging over the trail of hair on his chest, leading to a more lightly dusted belly. Impatiently, Richie was pacing the floor while he waited for coffee to brew. His eyes followed Richie as he passed by the table.

“This is taking forever. My parents need to upgrade this shit.” Richie said.

“Yeah, I think the coffee brewing technology has really taken off.” Eddie easily retorted.

“There are coffee machines that work twenty fucking times faster than this.”

“Twenty?” Eddie asked skeptically.

“Yeah.” Richie insisted.

Once the coffee brewed, they sat together in the kitchen sipping the coffee with late morning light spilling inside through the windows. The coffee was stale, because it was from whenever one of Richie's family members had last been at the house. Richie was making a face the whole way through it. Eddie finally got up and dumped his out. “Gross.” Eddie mumbled. He went for a glass in the cabinet and filled it with tap water, which also warranted a _gross_. “We should pick up a Brita at the store.”

“About the store.” Richie said.

Eddie looked over at Richie with his eyes narrowed like daggers.

“I know, I know." Richie said guiltily. "But I think you should have some downtime. Relax. Enjoy the A/C. Find a movie to watch. I’ll go to the store.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked. “Because I’m a very specific shopper and we also need shampoo. I like a very specific brand, and a very specific kind of that brand - the kind in the green bottle.”

“I’ll get you whatever you need. Just text it to me.” Richie said.

“I should just go with you.”

“Eds, is this about shampoo?”

“It’s not just about shampoo.” Eddie snapped.

“Then what’s it about?” Richie asked.

It was about a lot of things. For one, Eddie wasn't trying to trade out one person taking care of him for another. He was already annoyed at the idea of Richie doing things for him, but a whole trip to the store, going through to pick out Eddie's specific requests, and paying for everything? It had Eddie's gut twisting uneasily, his brain throbbing with anxiety.

“It doesn’t fucking matter.” Eddie grumbled.

“If it matters to you, it matters.” Richie said.

For someone who had just cursed a coffee pot for brewing too slowly, Richie was being awfully careful and patient with him. 

“Just make sure there’s gluten free stuff for me." Eddie grumbled. "And make sure you get organic meat.”

“You can have your meat however you like it.” Richie said, pitching his coffee down the drain.

“Just shut the fuck up and let me fucking Venmo you money for this or something.” Eddie spat.

“I have this thing called plenty of money and you might have this thing called unemployment. So, please, just let me take care of it.” Richie insisted.

Eddie let out a frustrated little noise. Richie grinned at him, which made the line between Eddie's brows thicken as he glared.

"It's okay, Eddie." Richie said carefully. "I swear."

"I hate this."

"I know, but your doctor told you that you need bed rest. Going to the store is not bed rest." Richie pointed out.

Eddie was pissed that Richie was right. He was fuming, actually, that he knew it was in his best interest to lay back down.

"Just go to the fucking store and get out of my face."

"Yes, sir."

When Richie went out the door fifteen minutes later, Eddie angrily texted him what he wanted at the store. He wasn’t upset with Richie, because honestly, he was right. Eddie hadn’t checked his bandages yet, because he was waiting for body wash and shampoo to take a shower with. But he was _achy_. His back was on fire, his chest was itching. The only thing he had noticed wasn’t bothering him as badly was breathing.

He was already irritated, so he may as well do something he really, really was dreading.

Eddie went back to bed, but took his laptop with him. He opened his laptop and stared at the google search screen in front of him. He let out a heavy sigh, before typing in, _Steps to getting a divorce_ and pressed enter. He was hopeful, but he was also worried that maybe Myra wouldn’t agree to get a divorce and try to hold it over his head, or that she would want everything that he had. But honestly, he would give her his money happily if she wouldn’t fight him.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie mumbled as he scrolled through to figure out what he was really looking at, what documents he was going to need that he didn’t have, and how he could possibly avoid Myra as much as humanly possible.

Eddie didn’t want to interrupt Ben and Bev’s vacation, but he did shoot Bev a text.

 _Hey Bev. If you get a minute, call me. Sorry to interrupt your vacation, I really hope you’re having fun. Also heads up that this is about divorce, so if you don’t want to talk about that, I completely understand_.

His phone lit up with a phone call almost directly after he sent it. Bev was too good.

Eddie quickly picked up the phone. He was kinda thrilled to have someone else to talk to about this. They talked back and forth for a little bit about the logistics of getting a divorce.

And then, Eddie was talking and couldn't stop. It was like word vomit. "I know this sounds ... crazy, but I married Myra because she reminded me of my mother and it was comforting. Or it seemed comforting at the _time_. I've spent all these years with someone out of ... comfort and not wanting my life to change, being scared of change or ... scared of what would happen if something was different? Sorry - I'm totally rambling. I just ... I wasn't ever really _happy_. I feel bad about it. I feel like I've been using her and I - I feel bad about leaving her." Eddie finished up with.

Bev was quiet for a pause. "It doesn't sound crazy. Why do you feel bad about leaving her if you aren't happy in your marriage?"

Eddie considered that question for a moment. Because marriage wasn't just about one person. It was about both of them.

 _But Eddie, I need you. I - I won’t ever forgive you, Eddie. I’ll be so hurt. You can’t do this to me._ _If you don’t come home and something bad happens to me, it’ll be your fault._

If the life that Eddie had falsely built for himself was all that he knew, it was also all that Myra knew. It wasn't fair for him to do that to her. Myra did always take good care of him. She made dinner, she made sure he was taking his medicine. She knew what was best for him, that he was sick and he needed someone to help keep him from all the dangerous things that were out there.

But that just _wasn't_ the truth. There was something burning deep within Eddie that was dying to get out, and now that Myra wasn't there, he was free to let it catch fire. Still, Eddie was stuck somewhere in between.

"Because I led her on for all those years. It's going to hurt her. I'm just abandoning her and it's selfish - "

"Eddie, it's not selfish to remove yourself from a situation that you aren't happy in." Bev interrupted him carefully. 

"Okay." Eddie said quietly. "You're right."

"I know I'm right." Bev teased.

Eddie couldn't laugh. He was way too caught up in his thoughts. "It's just that ... when I called her and told her, she sounded so upset. What if something happens to her and I abandoned her?"

"Honey, that's not a healthy way to think about it." Bev said. "Let me tell you something."

Bev confided in Eddie about how her husband used to treat her, and Eddie felt his heart sink deep in his chest. When they were kids, there was a time that Eddie realized he and Bev had more in common than he ever would have thought. Both their parents isolated their children for selfish reasons with the facade of protection. It seemed like neither of them had escaped the abuse that they endured, but had found a spouse to fill that space.

Of course, Eddie always knew that Bev had it worse than he did. His mother would have never physically harmed him. He had accepted that his mother had put him through some damaging stuff, but ... but Myra wasn’t nearly as bad as his mother. Was she?

Perhaps he and Bev's life overlapped a lot more than he cared to admit.

"After Ben and I do a little more traveling, I'm going to have to have time to myself." Bev admitted. "I want to go to therapy. I can't talk about ... everything, but I can talk about some of it." She hesitated, "I think it might help if you go to therapy." She suggested carefully. "You have a lot of stuff to unpack mentally. And I know, it's none of my business, but - "

"Of course it's your business, Bev. I wouldn't have called you and talked about it if I didn't want your opinion. I trust you. I love you."

"I love you too." Bev said.

Bev told him some helpful things about the divorce process and she reminded him that most things could be done via email or over the phone. That was a relief. Most of all, he was happy to have the support and he hadn’t realized he needed it. Maybe all the Losers did play a part in each other’s lives.

“I’m really sorry to interrupt your road trip to go down this rabbit hole of fucked up shit. How is it? Where are you guys?” Eddie asked.

“It’s okay.” Bev assured him. “It’s good. We’re in Atlantic City, working our way down the coast.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Eddie said.

“Are you feeling okay?” Bev asked. "I mean, your injury, anyway."

“Yeah, I feel good. Loads better.” Eddie didn’t need to mention how the travel had been difficult on him, how bad his chest ached and burned.

“Good. How’s staying with Richie?” She asked.

“Annoying, but fine.” Eddie said.

Bev laughed a little.

.

Eddie did finally move into the living room for a change of scenery. And away from his computer. He needed a break. He found a movie in the Tozier’s collection that he’d never seen before. He felt so strange on the couch, mindlessly watching tv. When he’d been in New York, he rarely allowed himself the luxury. He worked late, cleaned the house, went to the gym, went to the store, and worked on the weekends. All to keep himself mindless in a different way. He never allowed himself to stop too long and think about the things he would have _liked_ to do. 

They typically watched what Myra wanted. Their dates were per Myra’s request, even though they were rare. There were so many things in the city he would have liked to have done and just never did. He never really took the time to enjoy the more frivolous things in life. He thought about Richie being impatient earlier, but Eddie was even worse. Living in the city hadn’t helped. Everything was rushed and grey there. Eddie was willing to slow down (his fucking wounds were forcing him to) and add some color to his life. Even if for the moment that meant watching Pitch Perfect on the couch.

He was about thirty minutes into his movie when Richie came in. “Hey, Eds. You listened to me! Oh my god, _it’s a miracle_.”

Eddie got up to inspect the groceries, mostly to figure out what he could eat because he was starving. He settled on a bag of chips for the moment, then wondered if Richie got things that were healthy. He was impressed when he found bags of frozen veggies.

When dinner time rolled around, Richie surprised Eddie again. He made them grilled chicken "for protein" and two veggies for sides. They ate outside on the deck with Richie’s music playing softly from a bluetooth speaker. Richie even bought a citronella candle to keep the bugs away from them while they were eating. Richie talked about how he actually kind of enjoyed cooking. He rambled on about how he was going to make Eddie try food he didn't want to. Eddie's response was just, "Yeah, right." Although who knew what this new Eddie was willing to try.

He had never indulged himself in food either. Everything was either unhealthy or weird or food shouldn't be that color. He was picky, frugal and hated the idea of someone preparing his food for him at a restaurant. He knew how disgusting New York City really was. Myra never wanted to go out or try new food either. Eddie's only indulgence was sometimes discarding the turkey sandwich on wheat bread that Myra packed him for lunch and going to the Polish Deli down the block from his office. It was nice, clean, and they were always delighted that Eddie knew some words in Polish. Well, it looked clean, anyway. He always got cash from the ATM (one of his riskier adventures living in New York) so that Myra couldn't see that he'd spent money there.

After dinner, Eddie was looking at his computer again. This time sitting at the kitchen island. He was trying to get as much done that had to do with this divorce as humanly possible so that he could get all of this over with. He could hear Richie watching cartoons in the background.

Then, Richie was poking around in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked.

“Making a root beer float.” Richie said.

“It’s ten o’clock.” Eddie pointed out.

“So?”

“So shouldn’t you not.”

“Eddie, when have I ever done anything that made any sense.” Richie was scooping out chocolate ice cream for this rootbeer float, which made it all the more ridiculous.

“I guess you’re right.” Eddie said.

Richie grinned. “Do you want one?”

Eddie hesitated. He had never even had a regular root beer float, much less one with _chocolate_ ice cream in it. He was curious though. He knew that he shouldn’t be over-doing it with food, but he really hadn’t eaten that much today. Dinner had been early. The sugar was going to be hard on his stomach. It was really bad for him in general, really. His health and his teeth.

 **_No_ ** . Eddie wanted the damn rootbeer float, he was going to have it. So what if it wasn’t great for him? He had a healthy dinner. He was hardly even _eating_. He needed to gain weight. He could indulge a little bit.

“You know what? I’m fucking grown and I can do whatever I want. Yes, I would.” Eddie shut the laptop.

Richie got out a second cup. "Alright Eds!" He was smiling a little slyly, in the way that he used to when they were kids and he convinced Eddie to do something after Eddie said that his mom wouldn’t want him to, like wade in the river, climb up into the treehouse in Bill's backyard, lay down in the grass.

Eddie found himself smiling too as he watched Richie fix them up.

“Join me in the living room?” Richie said.

Eddie nodded. Richie carried the glasses, and once Eddie was settled he handed his over. Despite the fact that there was plenty of room on other couches, Eddie chose the one to sit with Richie. Sue him for indulging twice.

He took a drink through the straw and Richie looked at him expectantly.

“Oh my god. This is the best thing I’ve ever had.” Eddie sat back, hands around the glass and feeling really, really good. "Man, I don't even think I've had a rootbeer float before."

“You’ve never had a root beer float before?” Richie said skeptically.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Richie shook his head. “A shame.”

“At least I’ve done it now.” It took him a few minutes to finally say something about what they were watching though. “Richie, what the fuck is this?” He couldn’t help asking.

“Rick and Morty.” Richie said, as if that meant anything at all. Eddie didn’t know if he was ready to enjoy something that sounded so stupid, but for the moment, he guessed he could give it a chance. He even laughed a couple of times on the second episode.

.

Eddie faced the dreaded conversation with his boss later that week. It turned out that they miraculously hadn’t gone through the termination process, even though it had been over two weeks since they’d heard anything from him. He did get some sympathy from his boss about having an accident. His boss even pointed him in the direction to return to work in a different branch remotely. Eddie jumped on the opportunity. He didn’t want to continue to rely on Richie for everything. His company even offered him another week of medical leave with a doctor's note.

Eddie contacted the hospital for the note, he opened a separate bank account for when he was working again, and he emailed his divorce lawyer back. Everything wasn’t going smoothly, but it wasn’t looking entirely uncertain anymore.

He had begun physical therapy which left him tired and cranky most of the time afterward. He was supposed to do little exercises in the house too, which scared him a little if he was being honest. He was supposed to do a lot of leg lifts, which Eddie was trying to figure out how it related to his spine and chest, but he wasn't a doctor so he just listened. The first time started to do his rounds of excises he told Richie to make sure he was near by. "I don't mean watch me!" Eddie had exclaimed when Richie stayed in the living room. Richie lifted his hands in surrender and said he would be in his bedroom.

//

“We have to do something about the kitchen.” 

Eddie’s voice interrupted a really intense buzzfeed quiz entitled ‘Eat Your Way Through A Brunch And We'll Tell You Which Disney Princess You Are On The Inside’ which really, was making Richie hungry more than anything. “What do you mean?” He hadn’t looked up from his phone. He had one more question.

“It looks like a frat house.” Eddie said.

It turned out that he was Mulan.

Richie’s eyes darted up around the kitchen. There was a pile of dishes in the sink, which was actually incredible considering the amount of pizzas that had been ordered. Lined by the sink were beer cans that Richie had claimed he was waiting to recycle. Good for the environment, not good for Eddie’s nerves, apparently. Which was fair.

“I’ll clean up today.” Richie said.

“I‘ll help.” Eddie sat down in the chair next to Richie.

“I think you still deserve a little downtime, Eds.” Richie said.

“What’s your excuse?” Eddie asked. Though he was shooting Richie a teasing smile.

“Emotional trauma.” Richie replied.

Eddie frowned at him. “Stop.”

“You asked for an excuse.” Richie held his phone up. “Take this quiz. Find out which Disney Princess you are and I’ll clean up a little and make breakfast.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but took Richie’s phone.

Richie was making good on his word by putting the dishes in the dishwasher, for starters.

“It says I’m Tiana and I have a type A personality.” Eddie said.

“You definitely have a Type A personality.”

Eddie grumbled under his breath.

Richie was admittedly treating this like a vacation, which he and Eddie deserved. It was a great escape, even though he was sick of New England already. It had only been a few weeks, but he missed the LA heat. It was different from the New England summers. And it was slowly coming to an end anyway.

"I think saying this looks like a frat house is pretty extreme though." Richie said. "You should see my place."

"I'm not sure if that calls for bragging."

Richie missed California. Not that he'd ever tell Eddie. He liked the LA heat, the hazy hills. He liked that he had a nice house (even if it was decorated like a college dorm) with a yard and a pool. He liked that he had a nice car. He thrived in his fame, really. He liked attention. He didn’t care if that was selfish and made him sound like douchebag. 

The catch was that all of that was only so great when he felt so lonely and unhappy in his own skin all the time. He was living way above comfortably, but _things, fears_ still ate away at him. He guessed that was why it had been so much easier to just be high all the time. It wasn’t so bad sitting alone, scribbling away at jokes that were going to just get rejected if he was high. He had neglected himself, his house, his whole life back then. Even though he had been clean over the past two years, Richie found himself spiraling into a funk that was so deep that he didn't know how to find his way back out. The problem was that he completely stopped trying. Being sober was the triumph of his life, so there was nothing else to aim for. And now, he wasn't even really sober anymore. Since Derry, he'd been binge drinking and he knew it.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel that hadn’t been there before when he remembered his friends though. He had _real friends_ , he had family, and he had his dream career. True the career was barely hanging by it’s leg but it was there, still in reach if he just refocused. He needed a break from all of that so that he could appreciate his life and maybe himself if he really tried. He _couldn’t_ completely neglect everything in his life again. If not for his own sake, for Eddie’s sanity’s sake. He would have pretty much done anything that Eddie asked him to though, even if it was something utterly ridiculous and not just, _please put the dishes in the dishwasher and take the recycling out_. He had it good.

Richie was trying not to fuck up he and Eddie’s friendship by gawking for too long. Eddie was so cute, doing something as simple as standing in the kitchen and ranting about bug spray. Richie couldn’t do anything aside from agree, because Richie was weak. He was goddamn weak for Eddie and there was no other excuse for it. Richie would listen. He would listen and smile fondly as he thought about how much he loved this man and how lucky he was to have him in his life.

And that brief flair of happiness would stop him from saying or doing anything detrimental. Maybe he was codependent on top of all his other issues. The more time he spent with Eddie, the more obsessed he became with him. He tried not to be, but this time together was just proving that the feelings Richie had were much deeper than a childhood crush. Richie was in deep water for sure.

They spent a lot of time on the deck, since the weather was still warm into the evening. They went down to the dock sometimes, sitting close to the edge of the lake. Richie liked watching the ducks. It was new and refreshing and so goddamn tempting to stay like this forever. Even if it was New England and it still sucked. It was especially tempting when Eddie was doing shit like complimenting him on his cooking. Who would have thought? True he was making a lot of versions of chicken, but Eddie had mentioned protein and not really liking red meat. He didn’t even know that he could make wings, but there he was, becoming a fucking grill master.

“Seriously, Richie, this is great.” Eddie told him one more time. He was even licking his fingers, which was so … _not Eddie_ and so much more obscene than it should have been. Richie knew that he shouldn’t think shit like that, but who could help themselves when Eddie’s pink tongue darted out across his fingertips.

“I just put a shit ton of barbecue sauce on them and hoped for the best.” Richie said.

“I guess if you put enough barbecue sauce on anything and it tastes good.” Eddie said.

“What about on titties?” Richie blurted out without a second thought.

Eddie looked up at him very seriously, then said, “So I’m sitting there, barbecue sauce on my titties.”

Richie almost spit out his beer, because the fact that Eddie had quoted a vine was just too good. He belly laughed, and Eddie was laughing too.

//

It was almost time for Eddie’s revaluation in Bangor. He kept waking up in the night, feeling anxious in the week leading up. He was trying not to worry Richie, but the truth was, his back was always hurting and he was feeling hot all over, like maybe he never got over that first infection. The thought was keeping him up at night. It was spilling into his dreams. He dreamed about the leper a lot. He dreamed about his mom talking about infection. He dreamed about Richie, but it was always in some way that made him twist with unease, like his feelings for Richie were what was making him infected.

Part of him knew that he was being completely ridiculous by letting those bigoted thoughts that his mother had filled his head with still bother him. He had repressed his sexuality for so long that he didn’t know how to feel like it was okay, and well, he was still kind of repressing it. The only person he told was Myra for fuck’s sake and that was half to get her to accept that what he was saying was real. Myra hadn’t particularly helped his thought process about the thing, bringing him back to those thoughts about how other people perceive him. Whatever she was going to tell him about what she and her mother said behind his back still bothered him far beyond what it should have. It didn’t matter, because he was finished with that part of his life and didn’t have to please either of them anymore.

Eddie had no problem with other people who were gay. In fact, he had a very nice coworker who was a lesbian and probably the closest person to a friend he had ever bothered making at work. He knew that he barista at his favorite place to stop and get coffee was gay, because he had a rainbow flag pin on his apron. He was always very nice, even when Eddie wasn't in a particularly good mood (which was more often than not). Obviously there were other examples of gay people he’d been around and met and he’d not ever thought twice about their sexuality.

It was his own sexuality that bothered him. It had always bothered him that people assumed he was gay. He supposed what really bothered him was every time that Henry Bowers called him a homophobic slur. What bothered him was every assumption he’d ever heard about the Tracker “Brothers”, who everyone knew weren’t really brothers, with their beautiful flowers in the yard. His mother always called them "queer" with such disgust in her voice that Eddie never wanted anyone to think that about him. He blamed everything that was going on in his mind on his mother and her obsession with sickness, constantly warning him about the dangers of AIDs. As if he could get AIDs by merely thinking about being gay. He blamed his fears on the homeless man he’d seen under the porch at Neibolt, asking him if he wanted blowjob. On the idea that the homeless man had leprosy or syphilis, which was also an STD and it made his nose fall off, made him rot. 

**_It_**. It was Henry Bowers. It was the homeless man. It was the leper. It was his mother.

Eddie faced all of that while he was young, just discovering things about himself. Eddie had _known_ that he was gay back then, even if he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. He blushed sometimes from Bev’s compliments, but he never had the same deep stir in his chest as he did when Stan said he was really smart or Mike told him he could petal his bike fast. Attention from boys, even the ones that he surrounded himself with daily made him blush and squirm inside. He knew that at one point, he probably had some sort of crush on Bill, just from the way he blindly followed Bill into every adventure and craved his approval.

Then there was _Richie_. He had always felt his heart pick up when Richie would come around. He always waited for Richie to say something so he could argue it, and Richie always played that game right back with him. He let Richie be overly affectionate and touchy with him, in fact, liked it. He liked when Richie pinched his cheeks and called him cute. He shared that hammock with Richie on purpose on multiple occasions. He shared ice cream with Richie, when he knew that he wouldn’t have done that with anyone else. He liked it when Richie called him Eds. He liked it when he caught Richie looking at him. He liked Richie’s stupid jokes and bad voices. The worst part was that he still did. He still wanted it all.

He had always tried to push down every impulsive romantic or sexual thought that he’d had since he started to have them. Sex was dirty. Sex with men was dirtier. Even worse than that, he was really just pushing away the idea that he could find romance and happiness in a partner. Because the idea of dating a man had him tense and queasy. No one would ever understand him in the way that his friends did. Was he supposed to explain why he had gigantic scars all over him? Why he had nightmares? No, he couldn’t do that. He didn’t want to. Not because it would be hard, but because it wouldn’t have been fair. He could never let anyone know the deepest, darkest parts of him. He couldn’t bear to try with someone else when he knew that he was hopelessly infatuated and deeply in love with Richie Tozier.

Eddie didn’t know what he expected to happen when he started living with Richie, but he hoped that the normalcy of it would push down his feelings. He hoped that he’d find something he didn’t like about Richie, but the truth was, he couldn’t. The uglier the shirt, the cuter. The dumber the joke, the better. He didn’t care if he left beer cans on the sink. He didn’t care that he played his music too loudly. He didn’t even mind that he didn’t properly clean the sink out after he brushed his teeth.

His heart raced when he looked at Richie for too long. His chest ached with everything that he couldn't say. Richie was selfless, brave, and he was so full of love. Richie was so fucking _big_. Eddie wanted to touch him. He longed to press up against him, wrap his arms around those broad shoulders. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to be wrapped up in Richie and for Richie to be wrapped up in him. Richie meant everything to him. He wanted to protect him, to _love him_.

Was it wrong for him to sit and think those longing thoughts about what it would be like to really be with Richie? Would Richie think he was a weirdo and a pervert for the things that went through his mind sometimes?

Basically, Eddie had a lot of anxieties keeping him awake. And rest was good for the body, so being awake made him more anxious because what if he wasn’t getting enough sleep? It was a cycle.

He _had_ started going to therapy like Bev suggested. Well, he went to one session. Richie had taken him there and dropped him then picked him back up without questioning him about any of it, which was good. That didn't mean that his mind wasn't still reeling every night.

He was lying awake one night and decided that since he felt hot and itchy, water would help. He padded across the house in the darkness. He felt comfortable most of the time without his walker now. He turned the light over the kitchen sink and left it on, because he felt strange and maybe a little scared. As if a light was going to help with the things that he was really scared of.

On his way back from getting a glass of water in the kitchen, he heard something that _did_ scare him until he realized it was Richie. It sounded like he was yelling, but not quite. Eddie rapped on the doorframe before moving further into the room. “Richie, are you okay?”

Richie was asleep, tangled in his blankets. He was talking in his sleep, a distressed sort of gibberish.

So Eddie wasn’t the only one having nightmares.

He stepped further into the room and stood next to the bed, cautiously. He really didn’t want to startle him, but he knew what it was like to be stuck in a nightmare and want out. “Hey - Richie. Richie. Don’t be scared. It’s Eddie. Richie, wake up.” He gently put his hand on Richie's shoulder.

“Eds.” Richie’s voice was groggy, but Eddie could see his eyes open, reflecting the light spilling into the room from the hallway.

“You were talking in your sleep. Yelling, actually, kind of.” Eddie explained.

Richie shifted, taking in a deep breath. He was shirtless, Eddie could tell as he pushed the blankets were away. Which Eddie really tried not to look at, but failed. Eddie wanted to touch him so badly. Eddie moved closer, sat on the edge of the bed, close to Richie, but not too much.

“Were you having a nightmare?” Eddie was looking at him with wide eyes, full of concern,

Richie was quiet. He looked up at Eddie, lips pressed tight together. He licked dry lips and swallowed hard. “Did I wake you?”

“No. I was getting water. It’s uh, hot.” Eddie commented.

“It is hot.” Richie agreed, shifting some more to where he was sitting up.

“It’s okay if you were having a nightmare.” Eddie said softly. “I have them all the time.”

Richie still didn't say anything.

Eddie reached a hand out to pat one of Richie’s legs over the comforter. “You don’t have to talk about it, or you can. I just want you to know I’m here for you.”

Richie nodded. “Thanks, man.” He rubbed his eyes. “Do you dream about … It?”

Eddie nodded slowly. “Mostly.”

“Me too.” Richie said. “And … the things that I saw in the deadlights.”

Eddie frowned. Eddie remembered sitting around in that circle on that sunny day. Grass blowing in the wind and the sound of a train on the tracks. Bev saying that she saw them all when they were older. Then standing inside the Townhouse inside the dimly lit bar, Bev wiping her face and saying that she saw them all die.

"What did you see in the deadlights, Richie?"

Richie shook his head. He put his head in his hands, and Eddie heard him take in a shaky breath.

Eddie took in a deep breath. He put his arm around Richie's shoulders. Richie automatically ducked his head in the crook of Eddie's neck. Eddie's breath caught in his throat as he moved his other hand to cup the back of Richie's head, even stroke his hair a little. "I got you."

He felt Richie’s hands on his back, arms carefully squeezing him. Eddie’s heartbeat picked up. His hands felt tingly and his chest was swelling. "I’m glad you’re here.” Richie said.

Eddie wanted to tell Richie that he was glad that he was there too, that Richie’s presence was a comfort every day. He wanted to spill it all, right then and there.

“I’ll always be here for you.” Eddie let himself say. He squeezed Richie tighter, held him closer. There was still something hanging in the air, something that Eddie could have sworn was more than just a friend comforting a friend. The love between all of The Loser’s ran deep and over the month, but with Richie, there was a spark of something distinctly different. It was too tempting to curl into Richie and stay like that all night.

Eddie peeled himself away from Richie, heart sinking deep in his stomach when the contact was gone. "I'm next door if you need me."

.

“Morning, sunshine.” Eddie turned on Richie’s light. “You have to drive me to Maine today.”

“Fuck Maine.” Richie groaned.

Eddie waited for Richie to get ready. He checked his bank account and email on his computer, feeling a little more like he had some control over his life. Things were feeling normal. He hoped that things were normal with the healing process too. He was still feeling very weary about the state of his back injury. Richie hadn’t mentioned anything else about it being gross, but he was also probably trying to be polite.

He tried not to go down the inevitable road of anxieties. And they still had a five hour drive ahead of him to think about all that.

"Look at you, cute lil nerd in your cute lil nerdy glasses." Richie's voice broke Eddie out of his thoughts and his head snapped up from the computer screen. Had Richie never seen him in the glasses he wore while he worked sometimes? Or was Richie just feeling extra annoying, sensing that Eddie was in a bad mood? Was it payback for 'morning, sunshine?'

"What the fuck does that make you then?" Eddie snapped.

"A cute big nerd in my cute big nerdy glasses." Richie replied.

Eddie's mouth was in a thin line and a groan finally came out when he had no avail for argument. "Fuck off." He said, pulling his glasses off and shoving them back into their case.

"Cute cute cute."

Eddie practically growled under his breath.

.

“The wound on your back is still infected.”

Eddie’s heart dropped deep into his chest.

“Now, it seems a lot worse than it is, because the wound is so big, it’s producing a lot more pus. We're still going to do a scarping to gather information on the infection and how we can clear it up most quickly.” 

Eddie wanted to throw up. He really did. Especially because he knew Richie had been putting bandages on him there. He could practically feel the infection crawling in his wounds. He wanted to reach back there and peel his own skin off. He tried very hard to focus on what the doctor was saying, but there was a white noise in his ears. He was going to have a panic attack.

“Right now, you’re okay. It could get dangerous though. You need to be sure someone can clean the wound and that you take your antibiotics. A little more exercise will help circulation in your body. If the infection isn’t making you sick, then you should be okay to exercise. Still no lifting over your head, I’m afraid. We’ll keep the stitches in your back for two more weeks. There’s really good news though. Your chest is healing up really well and we can remove those stitches today.” 

“I guess you have to take the good with the bad.” Eddie said, still sounding disappointed.

They took a sample of his skin, which made Eddie nauseous. He kept thinking about words like infection and bacteria, all while the swab was deep within his wound, collecting samples. It also hurt like a bitch. He had to excuse himself to the bathroom to vomit after they finished taking the sample. 

.

They were mostly silent in the car. Richie broke it to ask Eddie if he was hungry, which Eddie said no. Eddie tried not to pout, but he felt like he didn’t have a choice but to be upset about all of this. 

“I’m sorry, Eds.” Richie said after forty minutes of pure silence.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Eddie grumbled.

“I think you need to.” Richie said.

“That’s why I have a fucking therapist.” Eddie spat.

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me for being concerned.”

“Sorry." Eddie murmured. "I’m just … so annoyed. I don’t want to be sick, Richie. I’m trying to move on to a new part of my life and this is getting in the way. You know how disgusting I feel?”

“You aren’t sick. You’re hurt. And you aren’t disgusting.”

“I feel sick and gross.” Eddie mumbled.

They sat in silence for awhile longer, just the music quietly floating between them and the shadowy trees passing by the windows.

“If it's any consolation, you’re handling this all way better than I thought you would be.” Richie said.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Eddie snapped.

“I remember the kid who carried disinfectant in his fanny pack. You used to ramble on and on and on about getting sick and infections and god, whatever else. It was _adorable_.”

“Shut up.”

“ - But it was clearly something that you had an underlying problem with.” Richie said. “I think that you’re handling this really well. Like the Eddie who waded through shit water with a broken arm and cut his hand open with a bloody piece of broken glass.”

“Braver than I think?” Eddie said, voice quiet and small.

“Yeah, definitely.” Richie glanced over at him with a smile. "Eddie, you're so strong. You'll be okay."

Eddie tried to keep being annoyed, but with those words, he couldn't. He stayed quiet, fighting sleep.

“ _And so the days float through my eyes - But still the days seem the same_  
_And these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds  
__Are immune to your consultations / They're quite aware of what they're goin' through_ ”

Richie was singing. Not that his singing was necessarily incredible, but it made Eddie feel warm deep in his chest. He felt the overwhelming urge to kiss Richie hit him all at once. Fucking hell, Eddie loved him so much. 

.

Group Text: **Losers Never Say Die**

 **Eddie** : Well, I still have an infection. Thanks shit water.  
**Bev** : Oh no. Is everything going to be okay?  
**Eddie** : Another round of antibiotics and we’ll see.  
**Bill** : Are you feeling okay?  
**Eddie** : Yes. Mostly I’m just tired and annoyed.  
**Mike** : Keep us updated and keep your head up!  
**Ben** : If you need anything, let us know.  
**Stan** : You’re going to be okay, Eddie.  
**Eddie** : Thanks guys.  
**Bill** : We’ve got you, buddy.  
**Bev** : We love you!

.

The sunset was glowing orange in the sky, reflecting on the lake. A chill was in the air and Eddie was wrapped up in a blanket on his lawn chair. It had been about a week since his doctor's appointment, and he was feeling much better. Richie was drunk. It wasn't an uncommon thing. Most of the time, it was a few beers, but on occasion it was stumbling drunk. Eddie was trying not to judge his coping mechanisms. He did worry though, just for the mere fact that Richie had pretty much gone back to being closed off since Eddie had caught him having a nightmare. Eddie guessed he would be a hypocrite for trying to get Richie to talk when he pretty much refused to talk to Richie about anything he was feeling, ever, but especially after finding out he still had an infection.

Richie was about half way between a few beers and stumbling drunk when he started asking questions. He was just drunk enough to be obnoxious. More so than usual, and in a way that wasn't him. Eddie knew that it wasn't helping that he was stone-cold sober, done with pain pills, and generally in a pissy mood ever since his doctor's appointment.

Although Eddie was sure that Richie hadn't meant to pry as much as he was, it was getting on Eddie's nerves. Richie was asking him questions about his job, then after an accusation that Eddie didn't even like his job, Richie had gone quiet when Eddie snapped at him a little. Richie was sensitive. He was picking at the label on his beer and looking hurt that Eddie had snapped. Eddie was about to open his mouth to apologize, but then Richie spoke up.

“You getting a divorce or what?” Richie asked.

Eddie was trying really hard not to talk about Myra with Richie. It wasn’t like he was leaving Myra for Richie. There wasn’t anything going on between them but a few shared glances that Eddie overthought, but still. It didn’t seem fair to mix those two worlds. 

“Yup.” Eddie said, popping the p.

“Can you get a divorce from here?” Richie asked.

“I can take most of the steps from here. The problem is that I don’t have some of the documents I need.” Eddie explained.

“We can drive to New York and get your shit.” Richie said.

“No.”

“Why not?” Richie asked.

“Because.” Not only did he not want to talk about this with Richie, he didn’t want Richie and Myra to ever be within the same vicinity of each other if he could help it.

“Good explanation.” Richie said.

“It’s complicated. It’s just fucking complicated.” Eddie grumbled.

“How did you break it to her that you weren’t coming back?” Richie asked.

“I told her that I wanted to take care of myself and control my own life.” Eddie said.

“You should have told her you were gay.”

Eddie looked at Richie, brows drawn together and lips pulled back in a thin line. Eddie wasn’t stupid. He just wasn’t sure how Richie found out. And it kind of pissed him off that Richie would bring it up like that if he _did_ know. “Then I would have been lying.”

“Would you have?” Richie asked, leaning up on his elbow.

“I’m not - I don’t - ”

“I heard what you said on the phone.” Richie interrupted him.

Eddie stared at Richie for a moment. All the times that he’d told Richie to fuck off, all the fuck you’s, and telling him how annoying and loud he was, Eddie had never once actually been angry with Richie. He was a little annoyed with himself, with the situation he was in, but he was never truly mad at Richie until _that_ . “Oh _good_. You’re listening in on my phone conversations.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Richie admitted. “But I did stand there and listen for a few seconds.”

“That was _private_.”

“I shouldn’t have. I know it wasn’t right.” Richie said. “I just had to be sure that you were really done with that part of your life … that I wasn’t fucking up your life by bringing you out here.”

“Everything isn’t about you, Richie! I don’t know why you can’t get that concept through your thick ass head.” Eddie exclaimed.

“Okay, so I’m the bad guy for giving a shit about your life.” Richie said. “Just like when you get all fucking pissed at me when I tell you to relax.”

“It’s not the same thing.” Eddie spat. Richie had to know that somewhere in the back of his mind. Eddie had a right to be angry. Richie knew it because he wasn’t arguing.

“Why not? Why isn’t it the same thing? I give a shit about every single part of your life, Eddie. That’s the point.” Richie said finally.

“Just fuck off, Richie.”

Richie pushed himself up from the table. He went inside without apologizing. It was just as well. Eddie didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t want to say anything he might regret, because he was about to lose his whole entire mind. It was too thrilling thinking that Richie cared that much about him, and it was really fucking with Eddie why he was so concerned about the divorce and about his sexuality. But it was sloppy as hell for Richie to bring it up while he was drunk and a terrible choice on letting Eddie know he overheard him on the phone that way.

//

They didn’t speak to each other until the next day. Richie was mad enough at himself for both of them. He knew he didn’t have a right to out Eddie like that, even if it was just between the two of them. He just wanted Eddie to know that he could be every part of himself that he wanted to be and needed to be. Eddie had practically refused to talk about his doctor’s visit. Richie was afraid he was bottling everything up. Although he had been going to therapy, so maybe he was getting it out there. It wasn't Richie's job to pry.

The selfish part of himself just wanted to know if Eddie loving him back was something that was even possible, or if he’d made it all up in his head. There was something that Richie just couldn’t shake. The certain looks and the lingering touches. The way Eddie chose to sit close to him on the couch. Richie wanted to believe that it was all _something_.

He woke feeling a little hungover, but more sick with guilt that they’d even gotten into an argument in the first place. He found Eddie at the dining room table where he’d made a make-shift office space.

“Can I talk to you?” Richie asked.

“Sure.” Eddie looked at him, leaned back in his chair a little.

Richie took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I listened in on your conversation. It was a messed up thing to do.”

“You’ve always been nosy.” The corner of Eddie’s mouth quirked up ever-so-slightly.

Richie laughed a little. “Yeah, still doesn’t excuse the fact that I’m a piece of garbage.”

“You’re not. You’re just human.” Eddie said.

“Look, I only heard about five seconds of the conversation and it just happened to be the part where you said what you said. And it’s your business why you said it, so I’m a dick.”

“You are.” Eddie agreed. “I get it. It’s not like you were spying.”

“No! God, no. I wouldn’t do that to you, Eds. I promise.” Richie said. “I want you to fucking trust me, dude. I wouldn’t ever do anything to jeopardize that.”

“I believe you.”

“Good. I’m really sorry.”

“Rich, I do trust you.” Eddie was looking at him with his face all scrunched up like he was trying not to get emotional over it, which made Richie emotional. “I trust you more than anyone else.”

“Me too. I trust you too.” Richie swallowed hard. Man, this had to stop. “Would you care for a fresh omelette from chef Tozier’s kitchen, good sir?” The butler voice made an appearance.

“Sure.” Eddie was smiling at him.

Breakfast probably should have been more awkward, but it wasn’t. Eddie wasn’t mad at him. Richie was so relieved that he could have done a fucking back flip. They were both too good at filling silence to let things stay awkward.

Though after a little while, Eddie said. “It’s true though.”

“What’s true?” Richie’s chest felt tight.

“I’m gay.” Eddie closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m having a midlife crisis in the middle of the woods.”

Richie sat back in the chair, gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip to keep himself from talking too much. He knew how Eddie felt. It was overwhelming to realize how easy it was to just saying something out loud, but then feeling like you’re going to be judged or discovered or somehow generally fucked up by saying it.

Richie took a deep breath. “I completely get it, Eddie. But it’s not that bad.”

“No, Richie.” Eddie’s eyes were back on him, round and pleading. “You still have your _life_. I don’t have a house. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Eddie, we’re going to take care of you.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of!” Eddie shouted.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Richie really needed to be better with his words. “That’s not what I meant. What I meant was that we’ve all got your back.” He knew all the Losers did. “I’ll help you until you figure it out. I already made that pretty clear, I thought.”

Eddie was clutching the edges of the table. “I need my fucking inhaler.”

Richie grabbed Eddie’s shoulder gently. “You don’t. Just relax.”

“I can’t relax, Richie!" Eddie pushed Richie's hand off of his shoulder. "I can’t breathe! I have asthma!”

“I think you’re just having a panic attack.” Richie said carefully.

“Oh fucking great. Either way, I can’t fucking breathe!”

“You’re going to be okay.” Richie said.

“I died and now I’m gay.” Eddie said, exasperated.

“Uh — not sure that’s how that works, buddy, but okay.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Listen, it’s all still scary. I get it.” Richie said. “I’m telling you the same shit I told you before — you’re brave. You can deal with it. I promise.”

“Richie, I can’t. I can’t.” Eddie said.

“Yes, you can. Look at me, Eds.” Richie waited for Eddie’s eyes to be on him. “I’m right here with you, okay? We both felt really scared to be who we were because of Derry. We’re out of Derry. Everything’s going to be okay. Breathe with me.”

Eddie closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath through his nose, then out through his mouth. “Okay.”

It didn’t last long though, Eddie’s eyes opened, and he stood up. He shoved the chair back so hard that it fell backward. His fists were clenched to his sides. “Fuck medicine. Fuck the placebos. Fuck every bigoted and homophobic thing I’ve ever heard. Fuck the stereotypes. Fuck my insecurities. Fuck it all. I’m so fucking tired of feeling like … like it’s something to be ashamed of! Who fucking _cares_ . I deserve to feel … feel fucking _free_.”

Richie had never loved him so much. He had never felt so proud. “You deserved that, Eddie. You do. You deserve every good thing in the goddamn world.”

“And you do too, you big fucking asshole!"

Richie flinched back at the words. Eddie was pointing at him with his index finger, almost touching his chest with it.

"You make everyone else feel good and you neglect yourself. It’s time, buddy. You’ve gotta stop the self deprecating bullshit. Everything _is_ about you, Richie. You’re my best friend and I’m just - I’m fucking glad to be stuck here with you. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I wish you could just ... see that in yourself.”

Richie swallowed hard. He reached up to rub at one of his eyes, because fuck if he wasn’t _crying_. Just a little. “I’m glad we’re here together too.”

Eddie let out a heavy breath, leaning against the counter. He was crying too. Richie stood up. He put his arms carefully around Eddie, pulling him close, hand splayed out against his lower back to avoid the wound. His other hand cradled Eddie’s head, palm against the nape of his neck as he let Eddie sink against him. He felt Eddie’s shoulders shaking a little.

“ _Fuck_. I hate talking about feelings.” Eddie murmured after a moment. He could feel Eddie's breath on his neck and it made the hair on his skin stand up.

“Amen.” Richie said. “Save it for your therapist next time.”

Eddie pulled back to glare at Richie, but he had that hint of a smile still with it, which was Richie’s favorite thing. “If you weren’t a nosy goddamn idiot with no tact on how to ask someone about their feelings, I would’ve.”

“Harsh, but real. I get it.” Richie was grinning a little.

“Richie, I mean it. I’m glad I have you.” Eddie said.

“I know. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news is, Eddie’s going to therapy and talking about being gay out loud, so he’s really moving in a positive direction. I’m very excited for these two to be in a much healthier place.
> 
> [A little Eddie in the bed on his lap top visual for fun.](https://ransonepj.tumblr.com/post/615852848227516416)
> 
> The most unrealistic thing I've written so far is that Eddie's employer was nice to him about leaving for an unknown amount of time and offering him more sick leave.


	9. Everything we say to each other is gay because we’re gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie's making some progress, a friend, and some bold statements. Richie is just tagging right along for the ride.

_Well I've been living on the crumbs of your love  
_ _And I'm starving now  
_

_\- Vance Joy_

* * *

The rest of the day was fairly normal, except Eddie kept craving the closeness of that hug, being enveloped in Richie's warmth. He hovered close after he finished working - what little work he got done while he was distracted by the whirlwind of feelings he was experiencing and the creeping aches that told him he wasn't done with pain pills, as badly as he wanted to be. He and his therapist had discussed his potential for addiction to them, considering his borderline obsession with medicine throughout his entire life that he had never looked at as abuse until his therapist brought it up. Eddie was exhausted with his thoughts. He gave up on work early.

Richie was outside on the back deck, scribbling furiously on a piece of notebook paper, huge shoulders hunched over the table like he was protecting his notes from secrecy. Eddie didn't want to disturb the process, so he decided that mind-numbing tv was the best distraction.

Despite being exhausted, Eddie was sure that he didn't get the proper amount of sleep with Richie on his mind, mostly. He hadn’t really _told_ Richie how he felt, but he felt all raw and vulnerable, even twelve house later when he was hugging that stupid stuffed sloth close to him. Hugging Richie close like that was all that he could think about. It made him shiver to think about. The warmth and safety. He felt like a teenager again, just hanging on every moment that he and Richie touched.

The next day when he woke, he was still feeling a little bit restless. When he lived in New York, Eddie typically woke up and went for a run. He figured that he wasn’t quite ready for that, but maybe he could go for a morning walk before his shower. His doctor had told him to get exercise. Eddie missed working out. He had been in good shape, always taking care of himself. Since being in the hospital, he felt like he aged ten years. He knew that going to the gym was not in his near future, but a walk was a good enough place to start.

He poked his head into the room Richie was staying in. Sound asleep, leg poking out of the blankets. Richie didn’t wake up before ten on most days. Eddie smiled fondly at Richie all sprawled out, except the arm tucked under his cheek. God, Eddie felt like a creep.

Eddie headed out the front door. It felt good, breathing in the fresh air and taking in some of the scenery he hadn’t been able to appreciate yet. The houses he passed were modern-style, slanted and glass, much like the Tozier’s. He wondered if Ben designed them too. Despite the fact that he started not feeling so great, Eddie pushed on past the forth house. He was determined to make it to the fifth. He turned around there, ignoring the fact that he was woozy. He finally had to stop to lean against the fence post of one of the houses. They had a dog, which started barking when Eddie leaned on the post and it came running over to him. Eddie quickly jerked away from the fence, hoping the dog wasn’t an actual guard dog.

In the process, Eddie lost his balance and fell over. Mid-fall he started to panic, because what if this reversed every single thing that his body had done to heal? What if he got a different injury? What if he got impaled again? What if there was a branch in the road and that’s what he fell on and it impaled him? He landed hard, on his ass and with his left hand and leg getting road rash. He cried out a little, mostly a hissing sound from the scrapes. _Fuck_. He was going to have a hell of a time getting back up.

His phone was in his pocket. He could call Richie. A wave of embarrassment washed through him at the idea. It was bad enough that Richie was quietly worrying about him all the time as it was. He didn't need to give him a real reason to fret.

_You don’t understand how hard it is for someone as delicate as you are. No one can keep you safe like I can._

“Are you okay?” There was a woman standing above him. She was tall and thin, she had her hair pulled back and sje had a kind face. The dog was still barking at the fence. “I looked out to see what Lucy was barking at and I saw you fall down.”

“Yeah, I’m - I think I’m okay.” Eddie pushed himself with his palms and groaned as pain seared through his back. He readjusted his position so that he could use his legs to help.

“Do you need help?” She asked.

Eddie grimaced at the thought. “I’ll be fine. I just - I have other injuries that make it hard to push myself up sometimes.”

The woman offered Eddie her hands. 

Reluctantly, Eddie took them and together they got him off the ground. She was stronger than Eddie thought she would be. He wasn’t very steady on his feet and she wrapped an arm around his middle section. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Eddie sighed out softly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Can I lean against your fence? Will your dog bite me?”

“Of course you can. And god no, she’s got a mean bark, but that’s about it.” She helped Eddie over to the fence. He leaned there, taking in a few deep breaths. The dog hopped up onto the fence, tail wagging and trying to inspect them.

“Sorry to bother you guys.” Should Eddie explain exactly what he was doing? “I was going for a morning walk and started feeling a little woozy. Leaned against your fence. Got your dog’s attention. I didn’t want her to bite me, so I lost my footing and fell.”

The dog was still standing with it’s paws on the fence.

“Oh my god. I’m sorry.” The woman said.

“No, it’s okay. Strange man, dog barking. Makes sense.” Eddie said.

“You can pet her.” She told him.

Eddie knew he was supposed to be allergic to dogs, but he thought of the day on Mike’s farm again, where he pet the animals, picked flowers, and rolled in the grass without sneezing once. He carefully pet the dog, scratching behind it’s ears. And he was able to lean against the fence while he did it, which was good. Maybe they could avoid any barking related accidents from now on.

“I don’t know if you know your neighbors, the Toziers. But I’m staying with them. Well, one of them. We’re next door. I’m Eddie Kaspbrak.”

“It’s been a long time since they’ve been over there. I was wondering if they were going to sell the place.” She said. “I’m Ashley. We live here full-time. I know a lot of these are vacation houses, but why not live by the lake full time? It’s hard to get out in the winter sometimes, but … my husband’s got the truck.” She gestured to the driveway where a large black pickup was parked.

"Nice." Eddie said fondly. “It’s so nice and peaceful out here. It's completely the opposite of what I'm used to, but I can see the appeal.” Eddie realized he was talking a lot, but Ashley didn't seem to mind it. She was just smiling at him. “Sorry if our noise carries.”

“Don’t worry about it. My husband loves loud music - heavy metal, actually. Your noise can’t be any louder than ours.” Ashley laughed. She patted her dog on the back. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Eddie was still petting the dog, who hadn’t hopped down from the fence. She looked like a german shepherd and could probably eat Eddie if he wanted to. “My - friend, the one I’m staying with. He plays his music loud too. - Thanks for being nice and helping me.”

“No problem. I didn’t want you to actually be hurt!” Ashley said. “You said you have other injuries?”

“It’s a long story.” Eddie said.

“I have time if you want to tell it. Can you make it to my porch?"

"Um. Sure."

.

When Eddie got back, Richie was sitting at the kitchen island, face in his hand and staring down at his phone. His hair could only be described as fluffy and he was wearing a Weezer shirt and his boxers that had little peppers all over them. He was very cute. He had a steaming cup of coffee next to him. He looked up, a sleepy smile on his face. “Where’d you go?”

“Just a little walk past a few houses” Eddie slowly shed his jacket, still struggling with his range of motion.

“Oh, that’s good.” Richie said.

“I used to run every morning. Since I haven’t quite worked my way up there yet, I guess walking is as good of a place as any to start.”

Richie nodded. He was clearly not awake, because he was quiet. 

It was nice having a little bit of routine back, even when there wasn’t that much he could do. Having Richie in it was nice too. He grabbed the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. He sat beside Richie. “So the neighbors invited us to a cookout this weekend.”

Richie looked over at Eddie, face scrunched up. “What?”

“Yeah.” Eddie said. “I was too polite to say no." He tilted his head. "I mean, not that I would have said no, I guess.”

Richie smiled a little. “Okay. Want me to call my parents and see if they know anything about them?”

“Fuck. Yeah, please.”

It felt weird, making some kind of plans with people, but Eddie decided that he said yes in a rush, but it was still what he wanted to do. Ashley was nice and so friendly. She had made Eddie feel very comfortable, which was _rare_. Eddie didn't really have a lot of friends in New York. The closest thing to one was the co-worker (the nice lesbian) who walked across the street with him at lunch sometimes to get a sandwich and laughed when Eddie complained about the price every time. Eddie wanted to try. He didn't have to be so closed off. Talking to people would be good. Eddie was still trying to figure out who he really was. He couldn’t do that without some kind of outside influence, right? He’d have to be introduced to things to figure out what he liked.

“What the fuck happened to your hand?” Richie asked, alarmed.

“I fell.”

“You _what_?”

“I fell, but I’m okay. The neighbor helped me and invited me to a barbecue.”

Richie was clearly biting his tongue.

Eddie let out a quiet sigh under his breath. “I swear I’m fine, Richie. If you would have been there, you would have laughed.”

“As long as you’re okay.”

Eddie hesitated. “I got ... scared and embarrassed when I fell. I busted my ass, man. I was afraid that, somehow, I was going to be impaled again. Like there was going to be a tree branch or something and it was going to skewer me like a sausage over a fire."

Richie raised his eyebrows. “Like a weenie?”

“Shut up.” Eddie reached to lay a light punch on Richie’s arm, even with his scraped up hand. "It wasn’t nearly that dramatic. I had trouble getting up, but I'm completely fine.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“ _Yes_ , Richie. I promise.”

.

The next day, Bill called to check on him, which Eddie both loved and hated. He didn’t want to talk about the infection. The idea made his skin crawl. He didn’t want to be _sick_. He tried to think about it from a rational point of view, but Eddie wasn’t the most rational person when it came to certain things. It was amazing that he based his whole career on being rational, really.

“How’s it going otherwise?” Bill asked.

“Well, honestly? I’m dreading unblocking Myra’s number to talk about the divorce, but it has to happen. I can’t keep sitting here and waiting for it to be over.” Eddie explained.

“Eddie, I’m sorry you’re feeling so frustrated. Is there anything I can do to help you?” Bill asked.

“No, I think this is all stuff that I have to face by myself.” Eddie said.

“Okay.”

“I’m working remotely for my old company.” Eddie said.

“Hey, that’s good.”

“Bill?”

"Yeah?"

“I’m gay.”

“Oh.”

“I just wanted to tell someone." Eddie said. "There’s so much about myself that I’ve just been letting be buried by fear and everything that I went through in Derry. I’m going to therapy, but it’s taking time for me to feel comfortable. So I thought I’d try that.”

“Nothing’s changed here. I’ll always love you. I know you’re great.”

“Thanks. I love you too, Bill. I think I’m going to throw up.”

Eddie didn’t throw up. He went to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He’d admitted that he was gay out loud and nothing had changed. No one thought any differently of him. He wasn’t sick, the world didn't explode or whatever he thought would happen when he started admitting this to not only himself, but everyone in his life.

He took in a deep breath, then found the razor he’d had Richie buy for him awhile back. It was time for him to shave his face and move on from that fear too. He took in a deep breath, shaving cream in his hand. He spread it over his chin, along his jawline. His hand shook a little when he raised it close to his face. He remembered the knife sticking in his face. He swallowed hard.

Another deep breath.

Eddie swiped the razor against his skin. He blew out a breath. The second was easier. He rinsed the razor and went back at it. He swiped it again, gaining confidence as he did.

“Baby Faced Eds is back.” Richie said when Eddie emerged from the bathroom.

Eddie smiled.

//

Richie was feeling a little reluctant to go and hang out with the neighbors, but if Eddie wanted to, what was he going to do? Say no? Richie didn't think he was capable of saying no to Eddie. Richie wasn't sure what to make of his parents' comments that the neighbors were 'nice people'. Richie didn’t trust it. Still, he was going to the store to get beer so he didn’t seem impolite. And also, so he had something to do if it went totally terribly. Richie was a little bit anxious about going to a party at a stranger's house, if he was being honest. He was used to this sort of thing, but an even higher, bigger scale. He was also used to be high when he went. He had no idea where this sudden anxiety about being around people had come from. Maybe it was that after everything he had been through over the last month, he felt different, like no one could ever really understand him aside from the Losers. He wondered if he was the only one feeling that way. 

On top of which, Richie was just completely and totally confused about what was going on between him and Eddie. Was that conversation from earlier in the week really what bros talking to bros was like? Maybe he was reading too much into it, but it seemed so obvious. Richie did tend to romanticize things. And maybe he was too insecure to believe that it was possible.

_You are the best thing that ever happened to me._

Eddie's words were ringing back to him in his ears. Richie was too scared to ask any more questions, to make things weird, to ruin what they already had. Things _were_ good though. It was nice to have someone there. He hadn't realized how lonely he had been.

He lit a cigarette and cracked the window of the car. He had been trying not to smoke in it since it was a rental. Before he had a meltdown in the parking lot of the grocery store, Richie picked up his phone to call Stan.

“Richie? What’s up?”

“Hey." Richie flicked ashes out the window. "I’m freaking out.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s about Eddie. Mostly.”

“Of course it is.” Stan sounded smug.

“Fuck you.” Richie sighed out. “We had a moment. I think.”

“Describe the said _moment_.”

Richie tilted his head back. “Alright, basically he told me how happy he was to have me in his life and cried. We hugged for like … five minutes.”

“Did you cry?”

“Shut up and let me explain. Also, yes.”

“Go on.”

“He said I was the best thing that ever happened to him. What the fuck does that _mean_?” Richie asked.

“You really have to ask that question?”

“I mean, sounds pretty gay, right?” Richie said. “But like, you guys are all the best thing that’s ever happened to me, so it’s like, is it a Loser thing or a love thing?”

“You’re overthinking it. Did you ask him?”

“Well, no.”

Stan groaned. “Richie. You are literally dragging this out so much longer than it needs to be.”

“What? I don’t want to fuck this up!”

“Just tell him.”

"Ugh." Richie groaned out. "And I'm going to a barbecue at the neighbors house. Eddie made friends."

"That's cute." Stan said.

"I feel like ... like it's going to be so weird. I don't know how to talk to people anymore."

"You literally talk all the time. Your career is just _talking_."

Richie puffed on the cigarette. "Yeah, but ever since Derry, I feel ... different."

"Me too." Stan said. "But most of the time, it's in a good way."

"Yeah, same." Richie shrugged. "Maybe I just needed to talk through this."

"Maybe." Stan said.

"Thanks." Richie mumbled. "Anyway - what's up? How are you? How's Patty?"

"Good. We're good." Stan said. "Things are mostly back to normal around here. If it's any consolation to the barbecue thing, I have to go to an office party that I'm not thrilled about."

"Aw, Stanley." Richie cooed. "I bet Patty is so cute at those."

"She's a lot better at mingling than me." Stan admitted.

"Oh come on! People don't like your dry sense of humor?"

"Eh." Stan brushed past it. "Oh, we're also planning a trip to Buenos Aires. We were supposed to go before - ya know, but we're going next month.”

“Hell yeah! I expect shirtless pics of you.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

.

It was good to know that Eddie was a little bit nervous too, because he said, “If we hate this, we can just eat something and then say I’m tired and weak from my injury.” Eddie dramatically balled up a fist in front of his chest, feigning the situation.

“Hey, don’t jinx yourself, dude.” Richie threw his arm around Eddie’s shoulders as they walked on the road to the neighbor’s house.

“I’m fine.” Eddie said.

Richie wasn’t sure if he completely believed him. He was well enough to go to a damn barbecue with strangers and drag Richie right along with him though. Richie dropped his arm when they got to the door.

It turned out that Ashley and her husband were really nice. They were a little younger than Richie and Eddie, no kids, living their best lake life. Their friends were mostly nice too.

Richie did fine. As Stan had reminded him, he was good at talking just for the sake of shit not getting awkward. Eddie was really damn good with this though. Apparently, Eddie was a people person. Richie guessed that he’d never thought much about it, but this was the proof. Eddie was charming and unafraid to say the things that he thought, even if he’d step on toes, but he did it here without being rude. _Man_. Richie was enthralled just watching him, really. He was very cute.

Richie resisted the urge to put his arm around him. It would have been a coupley thing to do. He was watching Eddie intently. 

“Are you Richie Tozier. Like, the comedian?”

Richie was broken out of his thoughts. The conversation sort of died down, and eyes fell on Richie. That really was the downside about small parties. No fucking privacy.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Richie reached up to adjust his glasses and forced a smile. He liked attention, but it felt wrong in that moment. Under the radar was going off in his head.

“I watch your stuff all the time. You’re pretty good.”

Richie couldn’t really remember what the guy’s name was. Shit. They’d been introduced to everyone, but Richie was shit at remembering.

“Well you’ve got shitty taste.” Richie grinned.

The guy laughed though, and so did a few other people.

This guy was a little obnoxious about it at first, just trying to prove to Richie that he was actually a fan. Richie was polite. It was flattering. More people were talking to him after that, asking about _what it was like_. Richie missed LA because being a celebrity wasn't a novelty there. But ... the attention wasn't so bad. As he knocked back his beer, it made things easier. He was happy to be Richie Trashmouth Tozier, funny guy and life of the party.

//

It took about an hour and a half, but Eddie was struggling with standing. He would lean on things if he could, but he finally had to find a seat at one of the barstools at the kitchen island. Ashley came to talk to him while she was working on putting some of the food away. The low chatter of voices with the occasional burst of laughter came from the living room. Dishes clanked as Ashley worked on putting things away. Eddie was achey, but content. He felt normal for once. Like he didn't have to be tense. He didn't have to worry about what these people thought of him, because _fuck it_. Also, Ashley was not judgmental at all. He felt like he could actually be friends with her.

“To be honest, I’m a little bit of a germaphobe, so letting that stuff sit out is just waiting for it to collect bacteria.” Ashley explained as she closed a tupperware container.

“I’m the same exact way.” Oh, they were definitely friends. “My coworkers used to think I was an alcoholic because I used hand sanitizer so often that it smelled like alcohol at my desk all the time.”

Ashley laughed. “Glad to know I’m not the only clean person in the world.”

“It might just be you and me.” Eddie smiled.

“It’s why we were meant to meet.” Ashley said. “That and because my dog absolutely loves you.”

Eddie was petting Lucy, who was still very interested in Eddie even though he’d been there for nearly two hours. She was standing next to Eddie’s chair, tail wagging in a gentle wave as Eddie scratched behind her ears. “I’ve never even owned a dog in my life. I don’t get it.”

“Dogs are weird.” Ashley said, leaning against the counter a little.

"Hey, Eddie!" Richie seemed genuinely excited to see him. He was also drunk, but hey, he was being pretty cute. "I haven't seen you all night. Where ya been?" Richie smiled as he opened the fridge to fish out another beer. He held it open while Ashley put one of her dishes inside.

"Mostly talking to Ashley. Where have _you_ been?" Eddie asked.

"Talking in there." Richie gestured to the living room. "Missed you." He moved closer to Eddie and put his elbows on the surface of the island.

"Missed you too, doofus."

"You okay? Feel good?" Richie asked.

"I'm a little achy." Eddie admitted quietly.

Richie found this to be the perfect opportunity to sing he chorus of Achy Breaky Heart to him. It made Eddie giggled a little, even though he tried to roll his eyes.

"We can roll out soon if you want." Richie said after he was done singing.

"Finish your beer. I mean, if you _can_." Eddie teased.

"Pft." Richie gently patted Eddie's shoulder. He was beckoned back to the living room. Eddie smiled fondly as Richie waved, said, "I'll be back" in his best Schwarzenegger voice, and returned to the group in there.

Eddie looked back to where Ashley was cleaning the counter with a rag. “Can I ask you a nosy question?” She said.

“Sure. Why not.” Eddie decided.

“Is Richie … your partner?” Ashley asked.

“What?” Eddie said, laughing a little nervous kind of laugh. He felt his cheeks heat up and his eyes moved across the house, falling on where Richie again. He was talking to the other guests, head thrown back and laughing. Eddie quickly looked back at Ashley. “No. _No_.”

“Just good friends then?”

“We’ve known each other since we were like … seven? So yeah.”

“Okay. I’m sorry for assuming.”

“It’s okay." Eddie said, looking at his hands on the countertop. "I’m … I’mgay.” Eddie admitted.

“Oh, gotcha.” Ashley said. She put the rag in the sink. "Well, I accidentally ended up cleaning everything up so I hope everyone was done eating." She laughed.

It felt nice to say it. It felt nice meet someone new and be able to be the person that he was becoming, with no reason to attach his life from before to it. He felt lighter. Ashley didn't even blink at him telling her. He was only a little disappointed that she wasn’t going to be his permanent new neighbor.

It wasn't long after that when Richie returned to the kitchen so they could excused themselves from the party. Outside it was almost completely dark out, no streetlights in the woods. Creepy almost. Eddie turned on his phone flashlight, shining it ahead of them.

“That wasn’t so bad.” Richie said.

“No, but I am really fucking tired.” Eddie admitted. “I stood up for way too long.”

“Lean on me, baby.” Richie extended his arm out for Eddie to tuck into the space.

“You sure you don’t need me for support, boozin' Susan?” Eddie asked. Still he wasn’t denying himself a chance to be close to Richie, so he held onto him.

Richie laughed, putting his arm securely around Eddie. “Yeah, totally.” Then he sang, “ _Lean on me, when you're not strong. And I'll be your friend. I'll help you carry on_.”

Eddie grinned. “Yeah, not really giving me any confidence that I’m safe.”

“I would never, ever put you in danger.” Richie said much too sincerely for someone who had just been singing for the second time within the hour.

“I know.” Eddie was taking in the warmth of being close to Richie. He was soft and sturdy at the same time. He smelled a little like booze and cigarettes, but the overwhelming smell of Richie made it okay. Eddie didn’t want the walk to the house to end, but he was achy. It had to.

Once they were inside, Richie even helped him to his room. He sat on the edge of the bed with Eddie. “ _Whew_. Maybe I’m a little more drunk than I thought I was before we walked.”

Eddie grinned over at him. “Sleep it off, big guy.”

Richie flopped back on the bed. “I think the neighbors like you better.”

“Why do you think that?” Eddie asked.

“You’re just so … polite and sweet and cute.”

“I told Ashley her macaroni salad had too much mayonnaise in it.” Eddie said.

“But it was cute.” Richie said. “Also _bruh_ , that’s the main ingredient.”

“ _Bruh_. I know.” Eddie said, leaning over Richie a little. “I’m not fucking cute.”

“You’re just weird.” Richie grinned.

“ _You’re_ fucking weird.” 

Richie was smiling up at Eddie with such a goofy little grin. His glasses were crooked, and cheeks pink from drinking. His shirt had slipped up his stomach a little bit, revealing a little bit of his belly. Eddie had the overwhelming urge to lean further over Richie, to just kiss him, to put his hand on him. 

“Ashley asked me if we were … together.” Eddie blurted out.

Richie raised his eyebrows. Eddie watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “What’d you say?”

“I said no.” Eddie pulled himself back a little.

“You gonna accept that you give the gay vibe any time soon?” Richie asked.

“ _Fuck off_.” Eddie’s eyes narrowed back at Richie. “I’m trying to accept myself for who I am, stereotypes or not.”

“That’s gay.”

“Everything we say to each other is gay _because we’re gay_.”

“I’m just teasing you.” Richie said. “You’re like … clean and polite. Which is the opposite of any straight man, so that’s like enough to throw people off.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “So are you retracting coming out?”

“Hardy fucking har har.” Richie grinned.

Eddie poked Richie’s chest, heart pounding. Richie laughed.

“I want to … explore gay culture. I don’t give a fuck anymore. I’m already one foot in, I might as well see what I’ve been missing.” Eddie shrugged.

“Mm, iced coffee’s a good place to start.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “That’s just being a basic bitch.”

“Oh man, you _are_ already one foot in.” Richie said.

Eddie laughed softly. He looked back down at Richie, gnawing on his bottom lip for a moment. “You gonna sleep all stretched out on my bed like a dog or what?” Eddie asked.

“Maybe.” Richie said, stretching his arms up behind his head. His shirt rode up more and Eddie’s eyes fell from his face onto the stretch of skin and hair again. “We can have a sleepover.”

“We have a sleepover literally every night. We’re roommates.” Eddie said.

“ _Fine_.” Richie pushed himself back upright. “You’re no fun.”

Eddie knew he was tracking in dangerous territory if Richie shared the bed with him. But did Richie _want_ to share the bed with him? He watched Richie stand up and his chance to cross a line went out the door saying goodnight.

//

The leaves on some of the trees were turning a little bit yellow when Richie took Eddie to his next follow-up appointment. As much as Richie hated going to Maine, he did enjoy the time he was in the car with Eddie. There was something intimate about their car rides, sharing music and telling little things that they’d missed about each other over the years. Every time that Eddie went to a doctor’s appointment, Richie got a little uneasy though. Mostly for the selfish reason like that one day, they were going to tell Eddie that he didn’t need to come back for a long time. Then they would have to move on from what they had in Vermont. Richie wanted Eddie to be healthy and happy though, so that was the sacrifice. 

Unless he told Eddie how he felt.

Then there was the possibility that Eddie felt the same way. Then there was the promise of having Eddie in his life. He didn’t think that Eddie was going to up and stop talking to him when he healed, but it wouldn’t be the same as sharing a space with Eddie, waking up to him every morning, sharing the drives, the dinners, the tv and the laughs. Man, this had spoiled Richie.

“Infection free, mother fucker!” Eddie announced loudly in the lobby.

"Hell yeah!" Richie held up his hand and Eddie high-fived him.

There was the promise of three more weeks. Eddie was in good health, healing nicely, rid of his infection, and didn’t need to wear bandages on his wounds anymore unless they started bleeding again. They would have another three weeks together, at least.

Richie decided that he wanted to take a risk. Not exactly with his feelings for Eddie, but for his own personal satisfaction. He hadn’t been posting on social media, because his manager advised him on a few posts about his hiatus and that was that. It didn’t feel very Richie, because he was always posting dumb shit. He decided he was going to come out on instagram. He didn’t care if that wasn’t professional or whatever. It felt as personal as he could get with his fans. Richie decided that he had to fucking stop pretending all the time. It was exhausting.

_I used to do everything in my power to hide that I was gay. Now I’m going to do everything in my power to constantly talk about being gay. Be ready for that during my next set. I’m here. I’m queer. And it’s not too late for this to be my year._

He had no idea how this was going to go over, but he was so nervous that his hands were shaking a little. He let out a heavy breath, then hit the share button.

Nothing happened. People liked the post. Richie turned off the comments after he noticed the first shitty one. But hey, overall it was positive. 

He saw an article on himself on Twitter the next day, which was just highlighting what he'd posted on Instagram. He retweeted it with the caption, 'nice detective work'. He didn't look much further than that, still a little scared of seeing the negative reactions. He didn't answer any of his manager's texts or even look at the them. He was really anxious about that one.

Though later in the week, Richie saw his phone light up with a call from his manager. He felt like his gut dropped out his ass. His throat was tight. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath.

“Hello?”

“Richie. You haven’t answered my texts.”

“I haven’t looked at them.”

“Wow." Steven said, a hint of a laugh in his voice. "That’s incredibly rude and unprofessional to admit to me.”

“Do you expect any less from me?”

“Not really.” There was silence, and for once, Richie didn’t fill it. “What I didn’t expect was to look at Instagram a few days ago and see that post you made. Richie, what the fuck? You didn’t think to tell me?”

“You know what? I did that for _me_. It’s exhausting to act all the time, man. I feel like I spend all my energy trying to keep it hidden and hushed that I’m gay. So if you’re calling to fucking drop me or something, just do it.”

“I was calling to say congratulations or something along those lines, actually.”

“Oh.”

“If you ever looked at my texts, you would have seen that.”

“I was scared to look at them.”

“It makes sense about you being so defensive, then.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know what to expect.” Richie smiled to himself. “Congratulations? Was that really what those texts say?” He laughed.

“I dunno, what am I supposed to say? ‘Good for you’ seemed rude and sarcastic.”

Richie laughed. So did Steven.

“Look, Richie, I just thought we were closer than for me to find out on instagram. I guess you always sort of throw me for a loop when I find out something personal about you, because I expect to know some of it.”

“I don’t mean to be secretive.” Richie said. “I’m working on that.”

“Well, I hope you’re also working on some new material. You should take advantage of the publicity this is going to give you.”

“Jesus Christ, Steven. Are you serious? We’re gonna exploit my sexuality already?”

“Hey - why the fuck not? When are you coming back to LA?”

“Undetermined.”

“I can get you gigs in New York, Boston.”

“You haven’t even read my new shit, dude. Come on.”

“Think about it, Richie.”

“I will.”

A celebratory drink was in order. Richie went to the store to buy liquor. Eddie could drink now too. He saw the perfect thing. A bucket margarita. Trashy, cheap, and fucking good. He hoped Eddie would be down for some celebrating. Both of them had gotten good news this week. Richie was feeling giddy, actually. Things were feeling positive for the first time in years. Getting that encouragement from his manager was the cherry on top of the motivational cake to get himself right.

He came back to find Eddie lounging instead of working, which was a good sign. “What the fuck is that?” Eddie asked.

“It’s a bucket margarita, baby. We’re celebrating.” Richie said. “We’re freezing this sucker and then taking it out to the dock to get fucked.”

“Celebrating?”

“Yes, our fuckin’ freedom.”

Richie watched Eddie try not to smile as he said, “Our freedom?”

“Yes. You’re allowed to drive and run and fuck.” Richie said, finger gunning in Eddie’s direction. “I officially came out on Instagram this week and today, my manager called me to say congratulations instead of being mad at me. So we’re celebrating and we’re getting drunk.”

“Okay. Sounds fun.” Eddie decided.

Later that evening, the colors from the sunset reflected gold and pink on the dark blue waters. A small boat made a white stream of foam behind it. Richie looked over at Eddie, who was watching the boat with mild intent. He looked particularly gorgeous with the golden light on his skin. He had gotten that sunkissed look from their time out on the dock over the past month. Richie was inspecting the dusting over freckles on Eddie’s face in the half-light, probably looking too hard.

“What are you staring at?” Eddie asked.

“Your cute lil freckles.” Richie said.

Eddie made a face like he was mildly disgusted by what Richie had just said, which made Richie grin.

“You got a hard on over that boat?” Richie asked.

“What?” Eddie asked, looking more disgusted and confused.

“The boat. You still jerk off to any kind of transportation? Just into trains? What’s the deal with that now?” Richie asked. 

“I guess boats are cool.” Eddie said, shaking his head. “God, you’re so fucking annoying.”

Eddie was looking at him in a way that made him feel warm inside and special. It was one of those looks that they exchanged sometimes that made Richie question everything in his whole entire life, like they were fitting together in a way that they were meant to. That this wasn’t just him being a fucking weirdo.

“You came out on Instagram.” Eddie said after awhile. “Whatever _that_ means.”

“I know, lame as fuck, but it’s a thing.” Richie said.

“I’m proud of you.”

That was enough to make Richie’s chest flutter with goddamn butterflies. He was feeling more and more like that thirteen year old that was in love with Eddie with every passing day. If no one else in the world was proud of him, but Eddie was, that was enough.

But Eddie was looking at him with those deep brown eyes, an almost melancholic gaze. The line between his brows was standing out. Richie thought it looked like he was trying to open up but failing to find the words.

“What’s wrong?” Richie asked.

“I really am happy for you and I’m not trying to steal your celebratory moment.” Eddie looked away from him, back at the darkening sky.

“But … ” Richie suggested.

Richie's eyes were on the scar on his cheek. Richie had the urge to reach over and brush his fingers against it.

“You can tell me anything.” Richie reminded him.

“I wish I could … say it out loud. Tell people and not feel ashamed about it.” Eddie said.

“You don’t have to feel ashamed about anything.” A bold statement for someone who constantly felt ashamed of himself for … well, pretty much everything.

“Yeah?”

“Yup.”

Eddie smiled a little. He was still looking like there was something on his mind, so Richie tried the best that he could to be patient and not keep prompting him. He smiled back at Eddie, then looking out on the lake again. Fingers curled around the railing of the dock. Something was hanging between them, thick in the air. Richie felt his heart rate picking up in anticipation.

“There’s more.” Eddie said after a moment.

“There’s always more.” Richie said because he _couldn’t_ shut the fuck up. He looked at Eddie, offering a smile.

Eddie hesitated, but it was only for a short pause. “I’m um … well, I’ve still got a big fucking crush on my childhood best friend.”

Richie's eyes widened, his heart pounded in his ears and the butterflies were at full force inside of his chest. His mouth felt dry. “Who’s that? Bill?” That was a bad joke, because if it were the truth, Richie wasn’t sure if he could take it.

“No, idiot.” Eddie was staring at him intently. “ _You_.” He looked at Richie with wide eyes, waiting for confirmation that he hadn’t said something wrong. 

“Eddie.” Richie’s throat was thick with emotion. He felt tears prickling in his eyes. “I’ve loved you … fuck, as long as I’ve known you.”

Twenty-seven years of not knowing what was missing was right in front of them, out in the open.

Eddie moved closer to touch Richie’s cheek, thumb brushing against his cheekbone and brushing away a tear. Richie was frozen on the spot for a moment, eyes closed and taking in the feeling of Eddie's gentle fingers on his cheek. His hand wrapped around Eddie’s arm, squeezing tightly as he looked back at him. Eddie leaned closer to touch his forehead against Richie’s. Richie’s glasses bumped against Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie huffed out a gentle breath of a laugh. Richie wanted to memorize every detail of this moment - the warmth of Eddie close to him, the too careful brush of Eddie’s thumb against his cheek. Richie’s heart was thudding in his chest. He knew that he was squeezing Eddie’s arm too tightly, but he wanted to be sure that this was really happening.

“I want to kiss you.” Eddie said suddenly.

“Do it.”

Eddie took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I — I mean, I _want to_ , but I … ”

“Okay.” Richie said as they broke apart. His grip loosened on Eddie’s arm, but Eddie turned his hand over to hold onto Richie’s arm too. “We don’t have to.”

“I’m sorry —“

Richie shook his head, interrupting whatever else he was going to say. “It’s okay. It’s okay, really.”

“It’s not okay. This is crazy.” Eddie's voice was a little frantic. He was looking at the small space between their feet on the wood of the dock. His gaze found Richie's again. "You _love_ me?"

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Richie said quickly.

“I said something _first_.” Eddie furrowed his brows. “I wanted to say it. Didn’t you?”

Richie felt his heart rate increase, a twist of unease in his gut. He was giving Eddie doubts and he hated himself for that. “I did. Of course I did. I just ... I’ve been so scared.”

“Of me?” Eddie asked.

“Of - of fucking this whole thing up." Richie's hands flew up. "I mean, we’ve got it so good out here. I just … didn’t want to change it. And then I just fucking blurted out the L word.”

Eddie's eyes didn't leave him. "So you just weren't going to say anything?"

Richie was taken aback by the question, gut twisting unpleasantly. "I - I don't know."

“You never have to be afraid that anything between us is going to change." Eddie's eyes were glassy. "You’re my best friend, Richie.”

“You’re mine too.” Richie swallowed the lump in his throat, entirely overwhelmed with emotion. Eyes welled up with tears. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything."

"It's okay, it's okay." Eddie said softly. His hand moved to wrapped around the back of Richie's neck, cradling his head. "I've got you." 

Richie closed his eyes. He put his arm around Eddie, resting against the small of his back and gently squeezed his side. Eddie’s arm was around him, and his cheek was resting against the place where Richie’s shoulder met his neck. Richie tilted his head, resting it against Eddie's. Pieces of a puzzle clicking together, worlds aligning. They savored the feeling of being together in that moment and knowing they were home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and quote "Everything we say to each other is gay because we’re gay" was something my best friend once said to me while we talked about missing each other during the quarantine.
> 
> Also FEELINGS REVEALED.


	10. Making Up For Lost Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie keep pushing themselves not to be scared. They realize something that they already knew in the back of their minds - neither of them wanted to be without the other.

_Don't ask me  
_ _What you know is true  
_ _Don't have to tell you  
_ _I love your precious heart_

_\- INXS_

* * *

**Richie:** Hey Stan. I hope you’re enjoying your vacation. I wanted to give you a positive update. Eddie told me he has a big old crush on me. I can’t believe it. Love you and Patty!  
 **Stan:** I think a ‘Stan you were right’ belongs somewhere in there. I’m glad you two stopped being emotionally constipated.  
 **Richie:** I still want shirtless pics. Xoxo  
 **Stan:** No pics.   
**Stan:** Also Patty says hi and congrats. I'm giving her your number. She's had one margarita and is offended she doesn't have it.  
 **Richie:** Yay!

//

Nothing had changed, nothing had ruined when they revealed their feelings to each other. Eddie was relieved that all those secret glances and the stirring in his gut hadn’t just been something he’d made up in his head. It felt good to know that he hadn’t misplaced all that longing. It felt incredible to speak it out loud. He was proud of himself for it. The time had seemed _right_. There had been no mistaking the way that Richie was looking at him. He'd just spit it out and honestly, he was fucking relieved to get it out there.

Eddie did kind of feel like a dick for not kissing Richie, but he was afraid if he started kissing him, he would never be able to stop. He wanted him so badly he didn’t know what to do with it all. He didn’t know how to be with someone he wanted that badly. It was for the best that he took things slowly. He wasn’t even _divorced_ , not that it mattered much since he’d made it clear that things were over. Still. It was the principal. Maybe.

Maybe he was making excuses, because despite the fact that he was relieved, a part of him was still scared too. There was no going back when certain lines were crossed. He appreciated Richie being so understanding.

Maybe he was still scared because he wasn’t supposed to like boys like this. Saying it out loud and _kissing_? That was crossing a line.

But the next morning when Richie reached over to put his hand on Eddie’s while they drank coffee together, it felt exactly like they were _supposed to_ be doing that. Eddie blushed a little, but happily accepted Richie’s touch. He had never really held hands like this with someone. Sure, he and Myra held hands when they first started dating, but after that it didn't seem necessary. He also just didn't like it. He liked holding Richie's hand. He hoped that they never stopped.

Richie started putting his arm across the back of the couch around Eddie when they watched TV together. Eddie had never really done anything like that with Myra either. She would complain if he tried, and most of the time, he didn't want to anyway so he stopped trying. Most of the time he even slept rigid and toward the edge of the bed, trying not to touch.

Eddie eased his way into being comfortable with touching. Richie was affectionate once he realized that Eddie wasn't pushing him away. He would squeeze Eddie's shoulder when they passed each other, gently put his hand on Eddie's back when they were in the kitchen together, pat his knee before he got up from the couch. The thing was, when it came to Richie, he had always been secretly dreaming of even the most casual of touches. Even when they were kids, he had always secretly liked the touches that he pushed away or complained about. Actually having them was something entirely different. It was comforting. It was nice. It felt _right_.

So Eddie tried to work his way up to doing the same things to Richie. He put his arm around Richie's middle, squeezed his arm, touched his shoulders. Richie almost always leaned into the touch, like he was dying for Eddie to touch him just as much as Eddie was. Sometimes, Eddie would come up behind Richie while he was making dinner and hold onto him, tucking his chin over a broad shoulder. That was his favorite thing to do. He loved pressing all the way up against Richie, hands around him and just holding his belly.

He still didn't kiss him. Even though he wanted to.

Eddie was still trying to figure himself out. How was he supposed to figure out how to kiss someone and be intimate with someone he actually liked (more than liked!) when he didn’t know shit about himself. He had to start with the easy stuff. He tried movies he would never have before. Horror movies were, for the most part, a big fat _no_. Rom-coms were okay. Richie almost always got teary-eyed during them and tried to hide it. Although, Richie also cried when they watched Lilo and Stitch together the first week they were there, so he'd just accepted that Richie was a crier.

Eddie watched crime shows sometimes (because Myra always flat out wouldn’t watch them) and found himself getting invested with them a little too deeply. Richie didn't really care for them, but he played on his phone or did something else. Eddie found himself liking things that most people would refer to as 'trash tv'. Whether it was a drama with bad writing or reality tv, he found himself unable to stop. While Richie was out one day, Eddie found himself on the couch with a wine-cooler watching RuPaul’s Drag Race and feeling like he’d truly been missing out on something by not knowing anything about drag queens.

“Whatcha watching?” Richie asked, putting the keys on the counter and setting down a bag.

“RuPaul’s Drag Race.” Eddie couldn’t even be bothered to be embarrassed about being immersed in the show. Or that he had been watching for hours. "I'm trying to figure out what I like."

Richie moved closer, eyes on the screen. “Eds, if I need to put on a dress for you to like me more, I’ll do it.”

Eddie scoffed, “Shut up.” He blushed deeply. He wasn’t talking about that, but Richie in a dress ... that was almost too much for his little exploring brain to handle, he liked the vision so much. He shook his head. “What I mean is! My therapist says that I was never really allowed to like anything except what I was _told_ I could like. I hadn’t even had a rootbeer float until I was fucking forty.” Eddie shrugged. “I just … I want to make decisions for myself.”

“So you’re watching bad reality tv.”

“This is fucking good, okay?” Eddie snapped.

“I’m talking about yesterday when I caught you watching Below Deck.”

“I wasn’t - “

“Don’t deny it.”

“Okay, so Below Deck isn’t part of gay culture, but RuPaul is. Have some fucking respect, asshole.”

Richie snorted. “ _Okay_.” He pushed his way onto the couch in the place where Eddie’s feet were. Eddie scooched his feet out of the way. But Eddie put them back in Richie’s lap with only a little tiny reluctance. He didn't even squirm when Richie put his hand on Eddie's calf. “So what’s going on?” Richie asked.

Eddie was sure that he explained a lot more than was necessary. Don’t ask a question if you don’t want the answer. That was how he looked at it anyway. He knew that he could ramble on about things, but Richie listened with as much of the attention as he could. It was nice to have someone actually listen to him when he talked.

“Who’s that?” Richie asked.

“Bianca Del Rio. She’s the stand up comedian. I love her.”

“ _Oh really_.”

Eddie bumped a socked foot against Richie’s stomach.

“Wait, if you did research don’t you know who won?” Richie asked. “Why are you watching if you know who wins?”

Eddie made an exasperated sound. “Are we seeing the same television right now? This is entertainment gold.”

“Okay, okay.” Richie said with a laugh.

It was a rarity for the two of them to sit down and watch tv together without talking through parts of it. There was commentary and questions and stupid jokes. Eddie didn’t mind, because Richie mostly listened when Eddie dug his heel into Richie’s thigh or elbowed him a little and shushed him. But Eddie knew he was usually the one who started talking again, so he couldn't be mad.

.

Eddie was still working on getting his divorce settled, and he had finally reached the point where it was impossible not to meet with Myra and their lawyers. She wasn't refusing the divorce or anything quite that dramatic, but she wasn't making things easy either. Aside from that, Eddie needed his personal paperwork, needed his other clothes, wanted his car, and a few of his other personal things. He had spoken to his therapist about all of this. She had encouraged him to go and end that part of his life, but assured him that she would be available for any telephone sessions that he needed. Including giving him her personal number, which was really great.

The only other issue was that he was going to have to do it by himself. He was going to have to spend a few days without Richie. His attachment to Richie was something he hadn’t considered until that moment. It was going to be really weird without him. He didn't think that Richie was going to take it very well either. But this was a good time for him to consider what it would be like if he didn't move in with Richie permanently.

“I have to go to New York for a few days." Eddie announced one evening during dinner when he couldn't stand not talking about it any longer.

“Okay.” Richie hesitated. “Do you … want me to come?” He asked.

Eddie shook his head. “No. I’ve got to do this by myself.”

Richie nodded. “I get it.”

Eddie looked down at the table. He tapped his fingers against the wood for a moment. Richie’s tone didn’t sound convincing and Eddie didn’t like it. His gaze returned to Richie. “It’s just going to be for a few days.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked.

“Fine.” Richie tilted his head a little, a small smile coming over his features. He reached across the table to take Eddie’s hand. “You gonna miss me?”

Eddie looked at their hands, gnawing on his bottom lip. “Yes, Richie. I am going to miss you. A lot.” He frowned.

“Aw, Eds.” Richie was trying to be playful, but Eddie could hear it in his voice that he was getting a little bit _emotional_.

They had spent some time without each other, of course. They did their own thing. Eddie worked in the dining area while Richie watched tv or wrote or went out to the dock. Richie went out of the house sometimes just out of pure restlessness, Eddie knew. And though Eddie hadn’t been able to drive for awhile, he went on his own walks, he went out with Ashley a couple of times, went to her house for brunch (it was as cute as it sounded). They spent time away from each other, but they hadn’t spent a night not in the same place since they’d been reunited. It was strange to think about that, but it was true. 

Aside from that, New York was three and a half hours away by flight. Eddie was going to be on his own for the first time since his injury. It was scaring the shit out of him. True, he was over the hardest parts of the injury. He wasn't getting dizzy anymore. He was cleared to drive, to exercise, to gently put his arms over his head. He could move on with life. He just knew before he even left that he didn't want to do that without Richie being in it.

//

Being away from each other was terrible. Richie hated to think that Eddie was away somewhere dealing with something he was dreading without him. It hadn’t helped that the few days before they had done a shit ton of cuddling. Richie missed that, missed reaching out for his hand, missed just having him there. He was missing everything about Eddie. This was proving that Richie’s codependency on Eddie was getting out of hand. He loved the guy. Sue him.

Richie took the time to himself to finalize some jokes and get feedback from his manager. He knew that Eddie was worried that being here was holding him back, but in all honesty, it was helping him. That funk he had been in had really turned around. For the first time in years, Richie was feeling proud of himself and his work. He had sent an email to his manager full of the material he had been working on. His phone lit up with a call a few hours later.

"Hey, Steven."

"Hey, Richie. You seem like you've really thought through this new direction."

"Yeah, I really have. I spent a lot of time on this stuff."

“I think you’re back on track. I think that we’re way past that rough patch. I’m going to send you the material that Jim wrote for you and - ”

Richie pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, glasses pushing up onto his forehead. “Steven, I thought you wanted to see _my_ jokes.”

“I do, I do. These are better, but I still think that if we picked through this and some of Jim’s - ”

“No.” Richie interrupted.

“What?”

“No. I’m not using material that isn’t mine any more.” Richie said firmly.

There was silence. “Richie, we can’t just fire your writer.”

“Why not?” Richie asked.

More silence.

“I told you I’m tired of not being my authentic self." Richie said. "I know that sounds lame, but I can’t do this anymore. I want to tell real stories, real jokes. I worked really hard.”

"You're really serious about this?"

"Absolutely."

"Fine. You'll do your own jokes."

“Really?” Richie asked.

“At the end of the day, it’s up to you. I know you’re really trying to make changes, so let’s see how it goes.” Steve said. "What if I set you up with a show? Maybe Boston or New York? Test the waters?"

“Man … okay. Okay. Yeah."

.

When Eddie came back it felt like it had been weeks instead of just a few days. He pulled into the driveway in a black Escalade. He had told Richie he was driving his car back, but this wasn't exactly what Richie pictured. Either way, Eddie was back and Richie was so excited that he came out to the porch to meet him. Eddie climbed out of his car and practically ran to the front door to meet Richie.

“Eddie, I missed you so fucking much, man. It was way too fucking quiet without you here to tell me the dangers of not properly washing our vegetables.” He was silenced with a hug. Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s middle, hugging him tightly, face resting against his chest. Richie didn’t say anything else, just rubbed his shoulders and held onto him. He felt Eddie’s shoulders shaking, like he was crying. He didn’t know Myra, but he hated her if she had anything to do with that. “I got you.” Richie said quietly. He leaned down to kiss the top of Eddie’s head.

Eddie looked up, eyes red and deep circles under them. “Richie.”

“Why don’t you go inside and relax. I’ll get your bag.”

“No.”

His heart sped up when Eddie looked back at him, eyes darting down to his lips. His wet, pink tongue swiped over his own bottom lip. Suddenly, hands curled in the front of Richie’s shirt, urging him down. Eddie closed the space between them, kissing him firmly. It was a little bit rigid and close mouthed. But it was the best thing that ever happened to Richie.

Richie kissed him back, cheeks heating up as Eddie’s hand cupped his jaw, palm searing hot against his chin. Eddie tilted his head and their mouths opened up, making things a better, smoother. Richie rubbed a small pattern with his thumb against where he was holding onto Eddie’s back. It relaxed Eddie, made him slump into Richie a little more. Richie kissed against his bottom lip before swiping his tongue against it, and suddenly it’s much better. Eddie kissed him urgently. It’s wet and sloppy, but Richie just wanted to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. They kissed the breath out of each other, panting and licking into each other’s mouths fervently. Eddie groaned into his mouth before breaking away from the kiss.

Eddie pressed one more sweet kiss to Richie’s lips. Then another. Then one more. Richie cupped his chin, pulling him in for another deep kiss. Richie didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from kissing Eddie after this.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, I don’t know why I waited.” Eddie said breathlessly.

“Sap.” Richie murmured, even though he was the one with tears threatening to fall.

The bags were forgotten in Eddie's car. Eddie went into Richie’s room with him. He curled up under Richie’s blankets, let Richie hold him until he fell asleep.

.

Once they kissed for the first time, it was like they were making up for lost time. They were making out all over the place. Eddie would have that little tiny glint in his eye and it would all be over. They kissed in the kitchen, they kissed on the couch, they kissed on the deck, they kissed in the hall, they kissed in the _bed_. Richie wasn’t trying to be pushy, but there had been a time or two when Richie put his hands on Eddie, dangerously close to where Richie could feel that he was hard from a shift against him. Eddie would always peel his hand away, looking flushed. Richie didn’t mind it. He was just thrilled to have Eddie want him at all.

Richie lived for the weekends that Eddie didn’t have to get up for work. Even though he was just in the dining room, Richie respected his space. Richie could have spent literally all his time with Eddie and it wouldn’t feel like enough. Making up for lost time thing, maybe. Or maybe he was just head over heels in love.

The weekends were so nice though, because they could just lay in bed together, sunlight streaming in through the blinds. They lazily kissed, hands wondering, but never past the waistline. Well unless Richie was pulling one of Eddie’s thighs around him or Eddie was squeezing Richie’s ass. Or vice versa. He loved it when Eddie squeezed his ass. He was happy with pressing kisses against Eddie’s neck until they were both content enough to get up and make coffee. God, Richie felt like the luckiest man alive.

Richie's heart swelled every time they held hands. His chest fluttered when Eddie smiled in a way that made his dimples stand out. Richie wanted to kiss those dimples. He also wanted to kiss the dimples on Eddie’s lower back that he got a glimpse of when he was bandaging Eddie up. He wanted to kiss Eddie all over. Eddie was still wearing shorts around the house, even though it was fall. It made Richie’s blood boil. He sometimes put his hand on Eddie’s knee, thumb stroking that patch of skin on the lowest part of his thigh. The soft skin made Richie crazy. He sometimes caught Eddie looking at him like he might have known that.

Richie wasn’t pushy. He was distant sometimes, if anything. He didn't want to be too much. It was overwhelming going from thinking this was impossible to having the love of his life within reach. He didn’t say or do anything to make Eddie uncomfortable if he could help it.

Eddie though. He was blunt as usual.

“Richie, I know that I have another appointment in a month. I was wondering … do you think it’s okay with your parents if I stay here until after I get through with my divorce.” Eddie asked.

“Of course.” Richie said, without hesitation. He'd kept in contact with his parents throughout this whole thing, like he promised. He was sure that they were just happy to actually hear from him, but they were encouraging him to 'stay as long as Eddie needs'. 

Eddie looked like he had more on his mind, so Richie waited.

“You know you don’t have to stay here with me anymore, right?” Eddie asked.

Richie shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to hold you back, Richie.” Eddie said. “I’m doing really well and I just don’t want you to end up resenting the fact that you’re here with me instead of living your life.”

“Eddie, you really think I’m ever going to do anything I don’t want to?” Richie asked.

“I don’t know.” Eddie mumbled.

Richie put his hand on Eddie’s. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.” Richie said firmly. He wanted nothing more than to see Eddie through everything. He wanted to be there to support him, celebrate with him, be there for him to lean on. Whatever the divorce and doctor’s appointments brought, Richie didn’t want Eddie to have to feel alone.

“Okay.” Eddie said carefully. “But what happens after that?”

“What do you mean?” But Richie knew. It was everything he feared coming into a conversation. He didn’t want to know what happened after. 

“I mean you have a house in LA that’s been empty for well over two months and a career that’s on hold. What happens when I’m divorced and cleared not to come back to the doctor for six months?” Eddie frowned.

“Move to LA with me.” The words came out easily. Richie was serious. He had suggested it once when Eddie was in the hospital and he meant it then and he meant it now. He wanted to be with Eddie always. He wanted them to spend their lives together. “I mean it. Come home with me after everything gets settled.”

“I can’t just — Can I?”

Richie wondered if Eddie was half asking himself that question. But Richie wanted to remind him, “You can do whatever you _want_.”

“But is that what _you_ want?” Eddie asked.

“Of course it is.” Richie insisted.

//

Eddie knew what he wanted. He wanted to spend his life with Richie. He wanted to move to LA with him, even if it meant living in the blistering sun. And maybe he would like it! He wanted to be a part of Richie’s life and Richie liked it there. But Eddie was hesitating. He didn’t say yes yet, because he wasn’t fully convinced that it was a reality. As much as he wanted to be with Richie, he had to know that this was real. He had to make his rational thoughts catch up with his heart. Like Richie said though, Eddie had a hard time believing that Richie would do something that he didn’t want to, so this had to be what Richie really wanted to.

Still, his mind drifted to spending the rest of his life with Richie. He was well enough to consider life away from the Bangor hospital. His therapist encouraged what Eddie previously considered to be impulsive behavior (which was so far just buying brightly colored clothes and eating ice cream whenever he wanted, but once he even made Richie try hiking with him, which Richie didn’t love). He was at the point of not only a morning walk, but a morning _jog_ . Eddie was in a good spot to commit to making a decision because he _wanted it_. He wanted that life with Richie.

He wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet.

Eddie wanted it _all_ though. He usually preferred to stick with his routine of getting up and going before 8 o'clock, even on the weekends, Eddie didn't mind staying in bed with Richie for awhile. It was easier to make out horizontally, in Eddie’s opinion. Legs could twist together and a little bit of friction didn’t hurt. Every time that Richie gripped his thigh or butt, it was like pulling at some string inside of Eddie that lit his groin on fire. He was trying to go slow, but he almost couldn’t help himself. Almost. There were insecurities and uncertainty that always stopped him. The reluctance of crossing lines again. Things could change. Also, he wasn't so sure if he wanted a dick in his ass. Not like that was the only option, but still. It was a lot to think about.

Still, Eddie pushed his hands under Richie’s shirt, touching new parts of his body with careful fingers, drawing patterns against his skin. “What if we just … took our shirts off.” Eddie said against Richie’s mouth, almost too quiet for Richie to hear.

“Took our shirts off and kissed?” Richie waggled his eyebrows. “Your greatest fantasy finally coming to fruition?”

“Stop.” Eddie laughed softly, just a little bit embarrassed. Richie’s hands on him eased any discomfort. He looked back up at Richie, unable to wipe the smile off his face. 

Until he actually thought about taking his shirt off. It was something he could do with ease, finally without fear of stitches popping or scabs opening. Sometimes he still had pain that shot through his torso. Sometimes it shot through his right arm, the one he still had trouble balling into a fist. The doctor said that was part of the body healing and some nerves coming back. The scars were ugly and big. His chest was healed, but the scar was thick and still a reddish color. The one that stretched along his back was even worse. He frowned deeply.

“Okay, you first.” Eddie pulled back a little.

Richie was quiet for once, but he did pull his shirt over his head, knocking his glasses askew along the way. He leaned forward, curling in on himself a little bit once his shirt was off. It occurred to Eddie that Richie was possibly self conscious too. They had seen each other shirtless, but not like this. It was a fair feeling to have.

Eddie leaned in, kissing Richie softly at first. He wanted to touch, but he didn’t want to be too much. He gripped a broad shoulder, then trailed his fingers along the new expanse of skin. He rubbed the spot between Richie’s pecs, fingers tracing patterns in the hair. He licked into Richie’s mouth, groaning softly.

“The fantasy won’t be complete until you take yours off too.” Richie murmured.

With a chuckle Eddie pulled back. “Let it go.” He rolled his eyes a little.

“Never.”

Eddie hesitated. Looked for anything else to say. “You’re still wearing your glasses.”

“Damn right I am. Can’t see without them.”

“You don’t need to inspect me.”

“Yes, I do. Trust me.”

Eddie felt the blush creeping down to his chest. He pulled his shirt over his head, despite feeling self conscious about the scars. He was self conscious about the fact that this was the most out of shape he’d been in his adult life too. But Richie was looking at Eddie like he was the most special thing in the entire planet. Eddie felt like it for once.

Richie kissed against his collarbone, sending waves of heat through Eddie’s body. He wrapped an arm around Richie’s neck. He tilted his head back as Richie trailed his mouth to the spot where his neck met his shoulder. Richie bit down, sucking gently on the skin and Eddie gasped out, fingers digging into Richie’s shoulder. God, he was getting hard.

Eddie shifted to lay on his back. “C’mere and keep kissing me.”

Without hesitation, Richie moved to hover over him. He kissed Eddie deeply, licking into his mouth. He kissed him and kissed him. Eddie nipped gently at Richie’s bottom lip, the way that he knows that Richie liked. That was when Richie pulled away with a light groan. Eddie smirked a little bit, despite himself, forgetting that he’s supposed to be embarrassed and self conscious. Instead he felt proud.

“You drive me crazy.” Richie grinned, nose bumping Eddie’s playfully.

Eddie felt hot all over. Then Richie moved to kiss his neck more. Eddie tilted his head, brows knitted together because he was so goddamn sensitive there. But then, Richie was kissing down and down, along his chest, making Eddie tilt his head downward to watch.

Richie kissed Eddie's scar - pink, ugly, harder than the rest of his skin.

“Richie.” Eddie’s voice was unsure. “I hate those fucking scars.”

“You’re so brave.” Richie said.

Eddie’s brows pinch together, eyes shut. “Rich.”

“I know you hate them, but they remind me how brave you are.” Richie's voice is soft, wavering with emotion.

Eddie sniffled, hands grasping onto Richie to ground himself. Richie caught his gaze and put his hand on Eddie’s cheek, thumb brushing softly against his cheekbone. Eddie turned his head and kissed the inside of Richie’s palm. Richie smiled at him. Richie loved him. He didn’t have to say it again for Eddie to know it. Eddie absolutely loved him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're so sweet. I'm so happy they finally kissed!
> 
> I'm back to work now, so I'm not sure when my next update will be. But I do have more planned. And an outline for the ending.


	11. Babe, you wanna go on a date with me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve made my comeback. Can you believe? I finally decided how many chapters we’re gonna have. I wanted to wait to finally update again when I was close to being finished with the whole thing, because I had an idea of how I wanted things to wrap up. Also I went back and tweaked some earlier chapters? Nothing overly important! I'm just never satisfied with my own stuff. 
> 
> Anyway! Enjoy Richie and Eddie go on a date and make out a lot. Not necessarily in that order. This chapter is pretty soft.
> 
> warnings: NSFW (ish) making out and mostly just dirty thoughts, mention of eating and vomiting in relation to eating ? (skip the bottom part if you don't want that), and minor talk about Eddie's wounds and minor talk of internalized homophobia (i think we're mostly beyond going into detail about that)

_Keep me in your glow  
'Cause I'm having such a good time with you _

_\- Kasey Musgraves_

* * *

Bright golden and orange hues reflected on the lake from the trees. It was a chilly autumn in Vermont. The heat of the summer was long gone, leaving Richie and Eddie with crisp cold evenings. Dark fell sooner and sooner as days in October went by. Eddie and Richie spent more cozy evenings inside on the couch, covered with soft blankets. Richie was bummed out that his grilling days were over. And that the dock was saved only for weekends where the sun soaked into that spot during the day.

It was a particularly rainy day and Richie had been restless since he woke. He kept going inside and outside, and finally Eddie stopped asking what he was doing. Eddie was surprised that he came back inside with a package. “Found it on the porch. It has your name on it!” Richie said excitedly.

Eddie _was_ surprised. He tore it open to find that Bev had sent him shirts and sweaters with little notes about why she thought that they would look nice on him. He smiled to himself even though he felt like he was on Pretty Woman or something. While he didn’t _ask_ Bev to do anything like this, he had mentioned to her that he was feeling a little clueless about what he even liked to wear. It made him feel special that she actually listened and then wanted to do nice things for him. He almost felt like crying, but he swallowed it back.

“Why didn’t Bev send _me_ clothes?” Richie asked as he watched Eddie pull a sweater out of the box.

“Because you weren’t impaled this year.” Eddie said.

“Not yet.” Richie waggled his eyebrows.

“You’re disgusting, dude.” Eddie said through a laugh. He held up the navy cable knit sweater. “This is nice though? Don’t you think? It’s soft.”

“You’d look nice in anything, pumpkin.” Richie said. “But I do like that a lot.”

“Pumpkin?” Eddie repeated back, mildly disgruntled.

“It’s fall. It’s cute like you.” Richie grinned.

Eddie ignored Richie, trying to decide if he hated it or secretly liked it. He knew which it was though and had a feeling Richie knew too. 

Under the things for Eddie was a jean jacket with a note that said _For Mr. Trashmouth ;) xoxo_

“Bev _did_ send you something.” Eddie held up the jacket.

Richie took the jacket out of Eddie’s hands. “Not bad.”

“Try it on.”

“You try your stuff on!” Richie said.

“Yours is just a jacket though.”

“Fine.” Richie pulled the jacket on. He held his hands out. “Happy.”

Eddie snapped a sly picture of him. “Very.” He grinned.

“Hey!” Richie laughed.

“You look handsome.” Eddie put his hands on the jacket, pulling Richie down for a gentle kiss.

“Thanks.” Richie smiled.

After Eddie carefully put away the rest of his new clothes, he left out one sweater and slipped it on. He took a picture in the mirror (annoyed at his face but deciding that he wanted Bev to know he appreciated her). He sent the two pictures he’d taken to Bev.

 **Eddie:** Thanks, Bev. You didn’t have to do that. We love them and love you!  
 **Bev:** Cuties! You deserve it.

//

“So good news and bad news.” Richie said. “Good news, we can stay however long we want. Bad news, mom wants the family to have Thanksgiving here. I know that’s like a month away, but you know. Just a warning in case you’re still in the middle of stuff. Also, an invitation.”

Eddie wasn’t sure how he felt about being at a Tozier holiday. He also wasn't sure if the invite was from Richie or his family. He didn't want to impose. “Um. I - thanks.” Eddie said, sputtering the words out. “Was the invite from you or your actual family members?”

“My mom invited you.” Richie said.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Richie smiled a little.

“Okay, cool. Cool.”

Eddie tried not to be nervous about something that was over a month away, but he tended to overthink quite literally everything. What would Richie’s parents say if they found out that they were together? … Well, they weren’t together-together. They had never said anything about that. So there was nothing to worry about there. Right? Mrs. Tozier had ended up accepting that Richie was gay and apparently Richie was staying in contact with them like he promised. That was a good sign.

That led Eddie to the other question. What were they? Boyfriends sounded so … juvenile! But it wasn’t like they had the chance to go through the boyfriend phase of the relationship. What were they now? Partners? Friendly roommates? Ugh. Eddie was going to have to work on communicating his worries to Richie. Maybe he was a bit too much like Richie, scared to say anything because he didn’t want to mess up what they already had.

//

The quiet hum from the tv filled the room. Eddie’s eyes were focused on Hell’s Kitchen. Richie didn’t care what they were watching, but he always had trouble sitting still after a while. That was something he had always struggled with. He could only scroll on his phone for so long, leg jiggling absentmindedly. He was having a little bit of fun on Twitter though, basically just trolling his fans. His favorite pastime.

Once he was bored with that, Richie leaned over to kiss Eddie’s cheek, right up against his scar. He kissed all over the side of Eddie’s face, nuzzling against the skin, while Eddie tried not to smile and half-heartedly shooed him with one hand. Richie kissed his jaw, his neck, and Eddie’s hand reached for the remote to pause the tv. Richie thought it was pretty cute that Eddie always paused the tv instead of letting it go in the background. 

With a small, playful glare Eddie’s gaze found Richie’s and then his mouth was on his. Smiling into the kiss, Richie was pleased with himself. Eddie kissed Richie slow. His tongue teased his lips but never dipped past them. Lazy, slow, and leaving Richie feeling like he was dripping with need and floating in a pool of satisfaction at the same time.

They shifted on the couch with Eddie’s gentle nudges. Richie was on his back and Eddie hovered over him. Eddie finally licked into his mouth, tongue tracing the top of his mouth, behind his teeth until Richie was practically whining. Eddie pulled back, looking down at Richie with a satisfied smile. He ran his hand through Richie’s hair. “How the tables turned.” Eddie teased.

Richie’s hands rested on the mounds of Eddie’s ass then squeezed. Eddie gave a quiet noise under his breath. “You were saying?” Richie asked.

Eddie kissed him once more, soft and quick. Then he looked down at Richie with brows furrowed and that thick line between them.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Richie asked, settling his hands somewhere a little more appropriate for thoughtful conversation.

“We should probably go on a date or something. Make all this less crazy.” Eddie said breathlessly. 

Richie grinned widely, feeling giddy already. “Babe, you wanna go on a date with me?”

“Shut up before I change my mind.” Eddie spat, but smiled. He leaned up to brace himself on one arm and run his hand through Richie’s hair some more. “Yes. Of course I do.” 

Richie was beaming.

Eddie leaned down to kiss him again. Harder, less tactful and more heated. Richie was lost in it. Hours could have passed. Days. They panted against each other’s mouths, bodies rutting slowly against each other until Eddie settled himself flat against Richie, adjusting to where there was the least amount of groin contact. 

When things were hot and heavy, it seemed like Eddie was stopping it more and more quickly. Richie guessed Eddie was afraid of losing control. It could be scary getting intimate with someone. Richie was horny almost 24/7, but he wasn’t anywhere near secure with himself either, so he basically understood. He barely knew what he was doing, honestly. Dating. Sex. Any of it. But Richie had never been so sexually frustrated in his life. It was almost to the point where he would get hard just from Eddie giving him a kiss as they passed in the hall. He hadn't masturbated so much since he was fourteen. He thought that Eddie must have been feeling the same way, which was the only thing that made him feel less like a gigantic pervert.

Eddie was adjusting against Richie, with one arm across his chest and using it as a pillow, the other arm dangling off the side of the couch.

“Boney bastard.” Richie mumbled. His arm squeezed around Eddie’s middle.

“Payback is a bitch. You used to be nothing but bones when we were kids. The amount of bruises I would get because of your fucking elbows.” Eddie said fondly. Then after a pause, “When did you get so broad?”

Richie shrugged the best he could from where they were laying. He was quiet, feeling a little self-conscious. He tried to sink into the cushion more.

Eddie leaned up to murmur against Richie’s neck. “Your shoulders are sexy.”

Richie broke into a grin. He had a hard time believing Eddie’s words sometimes, but hey, he knew Eddie meant them. It was sweet. “Your everything is sexy.”

“Oh _shush_.”

“I’m serious.”

Eddie was blushing, face ducking into his arms a little. So neither of them were fantastic at receiving compliments. At least they could learn to be less embarrassed together. 

His skin was hot where his shirt had ridden up and Eddie’s body was tight up against his. He gave a fair attempt at distracting himself by thinking about the fact that Eddie had asked him to go on a _date_. Richie hadn’t been on a date in years. He'd never been on a date with a guy. Although there were many times throughout his baby little life that Richie had wanted to go on a date, especially with Eddie. He wanted to hold his hand in the movie theater and buy him a milkshake to share. Was it silly if he still wanted to do those things? What was an adult date supposed to be like? Beers at a bar? Eating calamari at a fancy restaurant? Going to the movies sounded more fun. Living out those moments that he never got the chance to.

“We should pretend like we’re teenagers when we go on our date.” Richie said quietly. His voice was soft, like he was afraid Eddie would think what he was saying was stupid.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked. “Like go to the movies and make out in the car?”

Richie laughed. “Eds, you wanna make out in the car? You think that’s romantic? Or is it just the car that you think is sexy? You want me to rev your engine, baby?”

“ _Shut up_.” Eddie said sharply. Richie could see that his ears were pink. “Forget it.”

“I will _not_ be forgetting it.” Richie insisted.

“I just mean like … isn’t that what teenagers do! I don’t fucking know.” Eddie sat up a little again. “We went to the movies all the time when we were kids.”

“Yeah, but not like a _real date_.” Richie said quietly. His hands were playing with the ends of Eddie’s t-shirt.

“Okay.” Eddie’s voice was soft, like he was considering everything. 

Richie’s mind was racing too. He was hanging out the edges of memories, times that he’d been alone with Eddie and wondering what he was thinking. Eddie’s hands gripping his arm during the scary part of a movie, whether they snuck into the theater or they were spread out on the floor in Richie’s room (because Sonia never would have allowed Eddie to watch _anything_ scary, while Maggie was by far less strict about Richie’s movie selection at the video store). Richie was trying to fill out those moments in his brain, plus the ones where were alone in the clubhouse or down by the river, wondering if he had missed something, too busy trying to avoid his feelings to see the moments that they shared.

“Hey, Eds. You remember when we snuck in to watch Child’s Play?”

“It was fucking horrible and scary.” Eddie recalled quickly.

“And then you went to the second one with me too.”

“It was also fucking _terrible_.”

“Okay so, you have no taste." Richie said. "Shoulda known that since you're planning on going on a date with me."

"Stop." Eddie grumbled.

"Anyway, you totally held onto my arm both times.” Richie smiled. He let his head tilt back. A slight hint of that hollowed out, longing feeling he had before Eddie was back in his life was lingering. “I always wished that it was a date.” He admitted softly.

“You would take your date to see _that_?” Eddie asked.

Richie looked back at Eddie with a grin. “Teenage Richie might.” He could feel Eddie chuckle a little. He squeezed Eddie tightly.

“Sometimes when we watched scary movies I just pretended to be scared so you’d let me get closer to you.” Eddie admitted.

“Really?” Richie asked.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.”

“Eddie, you sly fox.” Richie grinned.

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie laughed.

“So you … really liked me too? Back then?” Richie asked.

Eddie was tracing his fingers on the edge of the sleeve on Richie’s t-shirt. “ _Well_ , I just remember always waiting for you to come around. I liked hanging out with Bill and Stan, but I was always waiting for you to get there.” Eddie admitted. “Then I would … wait for you to say something that I found mildly annoying so I could argue with you.” He smiled.

“I would _always_ say stuff to piss you off just so that you would pay attention to me.” Richie’s heart was twisting, his chest warm and fluttery at the same time though. Knowing that Eddie was doing the same kinds of things that he was doing back then was enough to make him melt into a pile of warm goo.

“God, of fucking course you did.” Eddie shifted a little so he could poke at Richie’s chest. “You were such a little asshole.”

“Hey! You apparently liked it!” Richie laughed.

“I guess I still like it.” Eddie tilted his head so he could kiss Richie’s jaw.

//

Since Eddie had brought his car with him from New York, he had been the one driving them around instead of Richie. It made Eddie feel like he could at least even things out, even if it was just a little, minuscule amount. Not that Richie wanted him to even things out. Richie probably would have insisted that he _not_ even things out. In his own mind, Eddie had a lot to make up for. He knew that a relationship ( _ahem_ \- if that’s what this was on it’s road to becoming - _how many dates does it take to be together-together?_ he wondered) meant working together, not owing each other anything. Eddie was so tired of feeling cared for that he was going to have to start doing things for Richie or he’d explode. Scientifically. 

Also just because he _wanted_ to do things for Richie. Eddie wanted to protect him. He wanted to care for him. Richie was soft inside. He was kind of romantic actually, Eddie was finding out. He remembered that Richie could be dramatic, got emotionally easily, but Richie had never quite revealed himself to Eddie (or anyone) the way that he was now. Eddie wanted to encourage and nurture every single part of Richie.

Sometimes that was hard to do when Eddie was still having trouble with his own internal struggles. Loving Richie was much less complicated than Eddie was making it in his head. He was convinced that he wasn’t good enough for Richie or that he couldn’t handle having something real. As overwhelming as it could be to learn that someone loved him unconditionally and with no ulterior motives, Eddie was giving it everything he could. In steps anyway.

Even though the drives were Eddie’s small way of making up for whatever he thought he owed Richie, he wasn’t driving them to the date. Richie was going to be driving them to the date. Richie was going to be driving Eddie’s car. That was a big deal. Eddie loved that stupid fucking Escalade. He knew when the time came, the mileage across the country was gonna be shit, but he wasn’t giving it up. 

Richie was driving because Eddie’s left hand had been giving him a lot of trouble. It had been the one that was bad off from the beginning - numb and tingly usually, but sometimes sharp little pains. Lately, both his hands were feeling numb. His left was still worse, but he was afraid that he couldn’t steer as well, that his hands might not want to move correctly. It made him frustrated more than anything. He was trying not to let it ruin how excited he was to go on a real date with Richie though. Richie was doing things for him because he needed it or because he cared about him, not because he was trying to hold him back. Eddie kept reminding himself of that.

“Whoa, buddy. This fucking thing is a tank.” Richie was in the driver’s seat, readjusting the seat’s position. “How does someone so tiny drive in this thing?”

“I’m not tiny.” Eddie said, brushing past the comment as quickly as he could. “You sure you can drive it?”

“Absolutely.”

It turned out that backing out of the driveway was the first issue. That was something that Eddie also struggled with. The view out the back was shit. He wasn’t about to tell Richie that though. There wasn’t a second issue until Richie was trying to pull into a parking spot at the restaurant.

“You can’t fucking fit in there, Richie! Please - for fuck’s sake.”

“That’s what you’re gonna say later if this date goes right.” 

Eddie groaned.

“Get it, because my dick is huge.” Richie added, unhelpfully.

“Yes, I fucking get it! You’re embarrassing me.”

“I can’t be. We’re the only ones here.”

“Exactly! You're embarrassing yourself too.” Eddie said, but he was holding back a grin. Richie could tell, because his dimples were showing. “I swear on my life, if you so much as _ding_ this fucking car for a sex joke, I’m going to fucking kill you.” 

Richie was starting to turn into the tight squeeze of a parking spot. He must have realized that Eddie was right, but he wasn’t saying so. Richie swerved away from the spot. “Fine. I won’t park there.”

“Good, because you can’t fucking park straight as it is.” Eddie said.

“I can so.” Richie argued as he searched for another spot. He found one that was much further away, no vehicles on either side.

“I guess we’ll see.” Eddie said as he pulled in.

When they got out of the car, it was parked more than a little crooked, barely between the two lines. “I dunno. Guess I can’t do anything straight anymore.” Richie grinned wide.

Eddie grabbed for his arm, tucking his hand in the crook of Richie’s elbow. “I’ll murder you if you fuck up my car, dickwad. You don’t even want to know what the bill was to get that thing fixed.”

“Honey, I won’t fuck up your car.” Richie was beaming. “Are we having our first fight over your car?”

“No, we’re having our _hundredth_ fight over my car.” Eddie kept close to Richie, a hint of a smile present. Eddie leaned over to kiss his shoulder.

“Hey, let’s send Bev a pic of us in the clothes.” Richie said, pulling his phone from the jean jacket pocket. “And also … like document our first date.”

Eddie opened his mouth, but fought the urge to say no after the second part came out. “Alright.”

Richie put his arm around Eddie. He stretched his other arm out in front of them, trying to properly tilt it to show some of their clothes. Richie took several - one actually looking nice enough to send, all very cute. Richie made Eddie take one by the restaurant by himself. Eddie tried not to look disgruntled about it, but Richie said, “Your resting bitch face is so cute, baby.”

The diner they chose had a five star rating on google, which was good enough for Eddie. It was one of those 50’s style diners, with a neon sign on the front and black and white checkered tile on the floor. The jukebox made Richie giddy and he had to play something on it. Eddie indulged in a burger, cutting out all his hang ups on gluten (he ate one bun) and red meat since it was a special occasion. It was well worth it, even though Eddie didn’t touch most of his fries. His stomach was still struggling to tolerate food still sometimes. Eddie knew he was pushing it, but they shared a milkshake. Eddie from before wouldn’t have even gotten a milkshake, much less shared a straw.

They made the mutual decision not to watch a scary movie since neither of them _really_ wanted to be scared. Even though it was October and there were more horror options than anything else. “Too soon.” Richie joked as they passed by one of the movie posters that had an abandoned house on the front. “Maybe we’ll be ready by the time Bill’s movie gets out of the production phase.” 

“So some time this decade.” Eddie said.

Richie grinned.

They agreed on an action movie and shared a coke. Their hands were clasped on the arm rest between them through most of the movie, even when their hands got sweaty. It was a true blue teenage-style date, but Eddie refused to let Richie kiss him in the theater. Even though Richie was clearly losing his mind, his leg was jiggling so fast. “Movies last too long.” Richie murmured. Eddie agreed though. Over two hours was entirely too long. Even though Eddie didn’t want the date to come to an end.

Really, Eddie was content in spending the rest of his evenings with Richie at home on the couch, but it was nice to change things up too. Eddie felt like he was experiencing parts of life that he’d forgotten he was allowed to enjoy. He could trust Richie to drive his car. He could drink a milkshake. He could pick the movie if he wanted. He was learning to be ... happier.

//

Richie was feeling elated at the end of the date. Sure, he hadn’t wanted it to come to an end either, but knowing this would happen again had him a little teary-eyed. He tried not to get emotional, but they went on a real-life, out in public date. They both had sort of brushed off the public affection once they were near the restaurant or in the lobby of the theater, but baby steps. Richie had teased Eddie about making out in the theater regardless. Maybe they'd be ready by the time Bill’s movie came out. When Richie drove them home, music was playing lightly in the background while Eddie was ranting about some scene in the movie that seemed unrealistic. Richie usually took a movie for what it was, but this time he couldn’t help agreeing with Eddie.

Once they pulled up to the driveway, there was a mutual pull of a spark fizzling - the night closing, but neither of them wanting it to be over. They lingered in the car for a pause. 

“Wanna split a bottle of wine?” Eddie asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.” Richie was already pleasantly buzzed though, thriving on the fact that he’d just gone on his first _real_ date with a guy and it was with Eddie. He wanted to keep it rolling. Sometimes, Richie wasn’t sure if he deserved everything to be working out perfectly for him. He tried to push those thoughts deep, deep down in the pits of where even Eddie couldn’t see.

Richie uncorked the bottle for them and complained about Eddie’s taste in wine. “It doesn’t even smell good.”

“Well, I don’t _have to_ share it with you.” Eddie teased from where he was crowded up against Richie’s side. He squeezed Richie’s arm softly.

They moved to the couch together. Eddie was talking about how he couldn’t even remember the last time he went to the movies before tonight. Richie was appalled, because he loved going to the movies so much. He used to go every week. This turned into Eddie being outraged that Richie hadn’t made the suggestion before or at least gone out on his own. Richie guiltily admitted that he didn’t want to leave Eddie alone in the house, but didn’t want to upset him by saying so.

Richie put his arm around Eddie, then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m sorry if it seems like I was being … secretive about my concern, but I didn’t want you mad at me.”

Eddie sighed softly, leaning into Richie. “I know it’s been hard to deal with me.”

“Not at all. You’ve been a peach.” Richie said.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Babe.”

“ _Babe_.” Richie grinned. He squeezed Eddie gently. “You doing okay now? How’s your hand?” Richie asked.

“It’s … okay. I just … ” Eddie said. “I can’t feel it.”

Richie readjusted himself on the couch and took Eddie’s hand in one of his. He gently massaged it between two fingers and his thumb. He rubbed Eddie’s hand like that - across his knuckles, the palm of his hand, each finger. “Helping?”

“Yeah. Thanks, baby. That’s good for strength and circulation.” Eddie was leaning into Richie while he worked his fingers along Eddie’s hand, down to his wrist. He leaned down to kiss the palm of Eddie’s hand. Eddie smiled.

“The other hand okay?” Richie asked.

“I guess it could use a massage too.”

Richie laughed softly. “Alright.” He grabbed Eddie’s right hand to do the same motions, gentle pressure between his fingers.

After a moment, Eddie curled his hand around Richie’s and squeezed. He pulled it up to kiss the back of it. He shifted on the couch, moving into Richie’s lap, legs stretched to fit around Richie’s bulky frame. Eddie pushed Richie’s glasses back into his hair and kissed him hard, hands on either side of his face. The left falling to his shoulder to rest, but the right getting lost in Richie’s hair. Eddie was kissing him with so much fervor, like he had something to prove, and Richie was almost struggling to keep up.

Hands rested on Eddie’s hips, squeezing and half keeping him in place so he didn’t get overwhelmed by the fact that Richie had a boner already. But Eddie’s hands were roaming over Richie’s chest, squeezing the parts of Richie’s body that usually made him feel self conscious. He leaned back against the couch, swallowing hard.

“You doing okay?” Eddie asked with gentle concern, a small smile on his features.

“Yeah, fucking great.” Richie said. “You … make me feel that way. You make me feel great.” He let out a heavy breath, trying to put into words how Eddie made him feel.

Eddie pulled back a little, crease between his brows. “Richie, you are great. You don’t need me to know that.” His features softened, fingers tracing Richie’s jaw.

Richie wasn’t looking at Eddie. His chest stirred with a little bit of unease.

“Richie? What’s up?” Eddie asked quietly.

“This night has been so perfect. I don’t want to talk and ruin it.” Richie mumbled.

“You couldn’t ruin it by telling me what’s on your mind.”

“I just ... don’t always like my body, but when you touch me I feel … special.” Richie said quietly.

“I love your body.” Eddie told him.

“Eddie … ”

“I’m serious. I love how big you are.” Eddie ran his hands from Richie’s shoulders down his arms. "My big, strong man."

Richie was grinning, despite himself. He ducked his head into Eddie's neck, cheeks bright pink. “How about we keep making out instead of talking?” Richie mumbled.

Eddie laughed softly. “Fine. Just this once.”

Richie leaned up to kiss him again. "Really had to twist your arm on that one, huh?"

"Shush." Eddie mumbled.

Richie surged forward, capturing Eddie’s lips in another searing kiss. The hands on Eddie’s hips squeezed. Eddie was pressing closer, soft moans slipping past his lips and into Richie’s mouth. Richie gently rolled his hips up against Eddie’s. The grip in his hair tightened, tugging and urging Richie to do it again. Eddie was hard against his stomach, pressed tight against him. Hands traveling down over Eddie’s ass. When Eddie pressed back into the feeling, Richie was pretty sure he died from heart palpitations and gone to heaven. He was in heaven. There was no other explanation.

When Eddie pulled away from Richie’s mouth, he was panting softly. “Jesus Christ.” He murmured.

“Richie will do.”

"Ugh."

Richie leaned in to kiss Eddie again. He pulled Eddie’s shirt from where it was tucked neatly into his pants. Fingertips traced over warm skin. Eddie gasped out against his mouth. Richie’s hands shoved up Eddie’s shirt, fingers digging into skin as Eddie rolled his hips against Richie’s again.

Eddie shifted, squirmed and jerked against Richie. He was chasing the friction of their bodies pressed together. Richie tipped his head back, watching as Eddie’s brows knit together and he practically whimpered as he rocked his hips. Richie’s hands slid back down to cup Eddie’s ass, squeezing hard as Eddie’s back arched. He curled into Richie, fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. His thighs were shaky, his breath short.

“Mm, baby, I got you.” Richie murmured. He leaned up to kiss against Eddie’s neck. He kissed sucked on the skin, sure he was leaving a mark. Hands urged Eddie to rock forward. His ass was pressed perfectly against the seam of Richie’s jeans where his dick was straining. He moaned into Eddie’s neck.

Eddie broke away from him. He ducked his head. "You have to stop."

Richie pulled his hands away. “I’m sorry - ”

Eddie leaned back, making an exasperated noise. “I don’t mean you have to apologize. I just - ” He looked back up at Richie, wide-eyed and disheveled. “I’m just … I’m not ready for things.”

“Things.” Richie repeated.

Eddie groaned. “Yes. _Things_. I thought maybe - but that’s - thats enough for one night.”

“Yeah, yeah. Totally.” Richie gets it. He was a little overwhelmed too, but still on cloud nine despite it. Enough for one night meant there would be more nights to follow and Richie could live with that. He really, really could.

“I’m not quite ready to … do stuff, but you make it hard for me to stop myself.”

“Am I too pushy?” Richie asked quietly.

“Not at all.” Eddie put a hand on Richie’s face, thumb brushing his cheek. “You’re just too sexy.”

Richie was red from his face to his chest, embarrassed and self conscious, but trying to believe it since it was coming from Eddie.

“Goodnight, Richie.” Eddie said quietly. He leaned down to press a kiss against his cheek.

“See you soon.” Richie sat there for a moment, hand coming up to touch his tingling lips. He was in _so_ fucking deep. “Shit.”

//

The nightmares were creeping into Eddie’s brain again. His therapist told him that nightmares were more common with people who had anxiety. Eddie knew that he shouldn’t let himself get anxious about being intimate with Richie, because it was something that he enjoyed the idea of very much (so much that after their post-date make out session, he had taken a shower and jerked off). It was just … _embarrassing_ that he had no idea what he was doing. He was still self-conscious. He was still adapting to the idea of Richie touching him in that way. He was still adapting to the idea of someone possibly getting a dick in their ass.

Eddie was thankful for his therapist on multiple levels, because he knew that he wouldn’t even be this far without her. The idea of kissing had once grossed Eddie out and he liked kissing a lot. He even kinda _liked_ that it was gross to swap spit. He felt like he was rebelling against the thoughts he had that probably stemmed from his mother. He also figured that aside from therapy helping him through his irrational fear of germs, kissing had probably not been very appealing when he was kissing someone that he wasn’t attracted to. He was _very much_ attracted to Richie. So much so, that he didn’t know what to do with it all. It was overwhelming. It made his groin burn and his skin tingle. Sometimes, he could just watch Richie flex his arm a certain way and pop a boner. It was getting to be a bit ridiculous. The conversations that were inevitably going to happen between them to figure out when they were comfortable taking any further steps were going to be embarrassing, but Eddie was bracing himself for it.

The nightmares were not helping his anxiety or self-consciousness. They were usually a reminder about sickness and STDs, all relating back to his internalized homophobia. He dreamed about being in the hospital, looking down and he was laying naked with the hole through his chest unhealed, exposed and open. When he looked up across the room he could see the leper. The dream made him panic when he woke.

He felt the warmth of Richie next to him though, luckily, which grounded him. He got up from the bed to go to the bathroom. He turned on the light and unbuttoned his pajama top. He studied his scars in the mirror for a moment, stomach turning at the idea of what had been there before, what was still lurking underneath. All the scar tissue and fucked up nerves. He felt sick enough that he thought he might puke. He bent over the toilet, hurling up all the things that he’d eaten (that he knew he shouldn’t have had all that food and then he drank wine - how stupid). He sat down on the floor after he was finished. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and debated on taking another shower.

He was on the other side of his injury. He was healed. He was well. He had just eaten too much.

“Eddie?”

_Fuck._

“Hey, Richie.”

“Are you decent?”

“Yeah.”

Richie poked his head inside the door. “Are you okay?”

Edie pushed himself up off the floor and groaned. “Yeah.”

“Okay, baby. If you need me I’m sleepy but here.”

Eddie smiled. “Go back to bed.”

Richie gave a thumbs up before going back.

Eddie looked pale and shaken when he looked in the mirror, so he splashed his face with some water. He also brushed his teeth twice before he returned to the room.

Under the blankets, Richie had his back to Eddie’s side of the bed. Eddie climbed in behind him, snuggling up against Richie’s back. He put his arm around Richie, soaking in the warmth of him like something healing. He felt Richie put his hand on Eddie’s arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Movies are too long" omg that's so meta. Also I don't know shit about movies, especially recent movies, which is why I couldn't choose a non-horror movie from October of 2016 for them to actually be watching? sorry im dumb
> 
> I wanted Richie in a jean jacket bc [ Bill Hader looked hot in one on Barry. ](https://barryberrkman.tumblr.com/post/187617933975/tozierhaders-barry-jean-jacket-gay-berkman)
> 
> I imagine that Eddie's autumny date attire [looked a lot like this photoshoot of Ransone. ](https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DqKAik8C5wA/XW8HWaOVCJI/AAAAAAAADtE/E1FaRlixz6E44M5prmkg5CUrF9TinrvdQCLcBGAs/s1600/LookT3_02.jpg)


	12. Be There or Beware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I wanted Eddie to get hit on and Richie to kinda think it’s hot but also get just a little jelly. And also tipsy Eddie.
> 
> Warnings: alcohol use, kinda using alcohol for self-medication, and hungover vomiting

_You've turned me upside down_   
_And that's okay, I'll let it happen_   
_'Cause I like having you around_

\- Wolf Alice

* * *

Brown leaves crunched beneath sneakers. The leaves were fiery shades around Eddie and Ashley while they went on their Saturday jog. The air was crisp and cool. Eddie was wearing a hoodie, but hadn’t given up on the shorts quite yet, mostly because he didn't want to dig through the suitcases that he left in the trunk of his car since he'd come back from New York. He and Ashley made it to the other side of the lake before Eddie admitted that they were going to have to turn around. He was in good shape, but he still didn't like to push himself too far _just in case_. He had plenty of time to amp up his morning jogs.

On the way back, Ashley asked Eddie and Richie to come to a Halloween Party. “I know it’s kind of silly, but costumes required.” She told him.

“It’s not silly. It sounds fun.” Eddie decided.

“Cool. Be there or beware!”

Eddie laughed. He was still disappointed that if he moved to LA that Ashley wasn’t going to be his neighbor. Or if he made some other decision that seemed too vague for it to be likely. Eddie was trying to be real with himself. Also he was trying to work up the courage to have a second conversation with Richie about moving in with him. For the moment, Halloween was the easier conversation.

When he got back to the lake house, Richie was stirring in the kitchen. He was looking pretty cute with one of his wild patterned button-up hanging open and wearing boxers that had little hearts all over them. Eddie resisted the urge to touch his butt. For now. Eddie moved in beside him for a cup of coffee.

“Hey, Rich? Ashley invited us to a Halloween party next weekend. Costumes required.”

“I wanna go.” Richie perked up from his typical morning grumpiness.

Eddie leaned against the counter. “I haven’t dressed up for Halloween since I was thirteen. It’ll either be fun or I’ll hate it.”

“Okay - we have to be something cool.” Richie decided. “Fuck. This is much too short notice.”

“You could be Ace Ventura since your wardrobe already looks like his.” Eddie teased, grabbing a handful of the front of Richie’s shirt.

“ _Wow_ , Eddie gets off a good one.”

Eddie leaned in to give him a gentle kiss. “Mm, morning breath and coffee. Sexy.”

Richie grinned. “Sorry babe!”

“It’s fine.” Eddie leaned in for another quick kiss. “I’m sweaty, so I guess we’re even.”

Richie squeezed Eddie's hips despite the words. "Sweaty and sexy in your lil shorts."

Eddie rolled his eyes, trying to hide a smile. "I'm taking a shower." He gathered his cup back up.

“Are you, daresay, having a shower coffee?” Richie asked, gesturing to Eddie’s coffee cup. 

“No, because that’s unsanitary.”

.

Richie spent the rest of the week trying to figure out what he was going to be for Halloween. He went through about ten different options, but then what Richie claimed to be a miracle happened. They were at the store and he saw an orange puffy vest. Richie had practically ripped it off the rack yelling “Marty McFly! Holy shit I can wear the jean jacket Bev got me!” Which was probably the opposite of why Bev bought him the jacket. Well ... on second thought, she would appreciate the costume.

Eddie on the other hand had picked out his costume just about the second that he’d been invited to the party. His mom had never let him be anything cool for Halloween, so he sort of still felt like he was running with that ‘what he never got to do as a teenager’ thing. He found pieces to make the perfect Maverick from Top Gun. Which Richie immediately made fun of the fact that he’d chosen to be a pilot, because, “Of course it fucking has something to do with transportation, you weirdo!” And Eddie had turned red and almost said forget it, until he remembered that Richie’s habits of making fun of him were derived from his childhood crush. Then he felt a little smug about it.

When the night of the party came, Eddie was feeling unreasonably nervous considering they had quite literally done this before, just never in costume. Maybe he felt embarrassed for doing something childish like dressing up. Maybe he was just anxious about the party. At least he could drink at this one.

Eddie was adjusting his collar in the mirror. “Did you give me a fucking hickey? Seriously?” He asked and a disgusted noise left him. “I’m a forty year old man dressed up for Halloween with a hickey.”

Richie grinned. “You weren’t complaining at the time.” He leaned over to kiss Eddie on the cheek.

Eddie glared at him.

Richie laughed. “Cute.”

“Fuck off.”

Eddie was secretly sort of fond of the hickey. Not exactly the _placement_ , but the idea that there was a mark on him to remind him that he was Richie’s and Richie was his. It was trashy and romantic at the same time, which was kind of turning into their brand. He touched the spot on his neck, then pulled his collar up a little higher.

“Eddie, you look _sexy_. Lemme see you in those aviators, baby.” Richie was looking at him from the mirror.

“Thanks.” Eddie turned around, putting the sunglasses on. One corner of his mouth turned up into a smile.

“Oooh damn.” Richie grinned.

Eddie pushed the glasses up into his hair. “You think people will get it without the glasses? It’s going to be stupid to wear them inside.”

“You’ll look like a sexy little fighter pilot either way.”

Eddie smiled. He crossed his arms over his chest, taking Richie in. “You look really cute.”

“Thanks! I know man boobs weren’t really part of the look, but the layers deemphasize - ”

“Shut up.” Eddie interrupted him, rolling his eyes. “You look _hot_.”

“Oh do I now?”

“Yeah.” Eddie closed the space between them again. He tucked his hands inside of the puffy vest. “Not as hot as Michael J. Fox, but you know.”

Richie laughed, throwing his head back as he did. “That’s fair.” Richie put his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, squeezing them softly. 

“I’m only teasing, Rich. I think you’re the most handsome man in the entire world.” Eddie murmured, bending a little so his cheek rested against Richie’s chest.

“Babe.” Richie said quietly. Eddie could tell he was getting teary. He leaned up and shook his head. Richie gave him a shy kind of smile, then leaned in to kiss him. “That can’t be true though. Ryan Renoylds is the most handsome man in the entire world.”

.

Outside of Ashley’s house were stacks of jack o'lanterns and there were orange strings of lights. Inside, the party had more people than the last. It was even warm inside from all the body heat, especially compared to the cool autumn air. The lights were lower, pumpkins and skeletons were placed around the house, and Halloween was playing on Ashley’s tv in the living room.

Eddie was anxious. He was trying really hard not to be, but he was. Maybe he wasn't ready for something that was spooky-themed. Although he was relieved that it was cutesy spooky, if the scarecrow in the front garden had been any indicator.

“That shit's cool.” Richie said and high-fived Ashley. She was dressed as Medusa. 

John said that he was supposed to be Perseus, but he was just wearing a bedsheet and carrying a foam sword. Ashley rolled her eyes when he told them who he was. “Not the couples costume I dreamed of.” She admitted quietly to Eddie and Eddie held back a laugh.

“Top Gun? That’s fuckin’ cool, dude.” John held up his hand to high-five Eddie.

Eddie smiled and gave him a high-five. “Um, may I ask where the liquor is, please?” Eddie said.

Ashley took him by the arm over to the kitchen counter, leaving Richie with John. Richie waved and Eddie smiled softly. 

On the kitchen island was a spread of snacks, but there was also a punch bowl. It was full of dark red liquid and there was a large, hand-shaped ice cube floating in it. Eddie swallowed hard, mind drifting to floating body parts in grey water. “Spooky.” Eddie said politely, feeling sick. Eyes wide and backing into the other side of the kitchen he gripped the counter. He let out a heavy breath.

"Are you okay?" Ashley turned around, liquor bottle in one hand and plastic shot glasses on the counter in front of her.

"Yeah. I'll be okay." Eddie said, partly to convince himself. He blew out another breath. "Little anxious about all the people, I guess."

"Liquid medicine." Ashley said as she poured the shots.

"Mm." Eddie replied, lips drawn tight.

Ashley handed him the shot, grinning a little at him. "Cheers to loosening up?" She teased.

Eddie nodded. It burned going down. It nearly made him gag. Ashley shoved a cup full of the red liquid into his hand and Eddie tried not to think too hard about it when he drank. It was potent too, but masked in sweetness at least.

“Damn, okay.” Ashley was laughing as Eddie finished the cup too.

“You know how I always talk about wanting to try new things?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah.” Ashley’s face was scrunched up under her makeup.

“I want to get drunk.” Eddie decided.

“You’re off to a good start.” Ashley took the cup from him and refilled it.

Eddie wanted to blissfully cruise through the evening. He wanted to have fun. He wanted to be outside of himself. He hadn’t considered the fact that he wasn’t ready for Halloween, that he wasn’t ready to see cobwebs and fake blood.

"You've never been drunk before?" Ashley asked, handing him his cup back.

"I have. It's been a long time since I let my guard down enough to get like wasted." Eddie explained.

“Hey Eds. Hey Ash.” Richie had joined them in the kitchen to put away his beer in the fridge. He was pushing things around with Ashley’s help to make it fit.

Eddie was standing in the corner of the counter pouring himself another shot.

“Whoa, buddy. Never take a shot alone, c’mon.” Richie reached for one of the cups too. He took the bottle out of Eddie’s hand to pour his own. Then Ashley joined in and they cheered to something stupid.

Richie was hovering for a little while, staying close to Eddie. Which on one hand, was very sweet, and on the other, was really annoying because Eddie could read the worry on Richie’s face. Richie wasn’t annoying. Eddie was the one who was annoying. He was uneasy, but thankful that the liquor was loosening him up.

Once a couple more people came into the kitchen, Ashley was pulling Eddie away again. He didn’t particularly want to leave Richie’s side, but he was feeling better so that was a good thing. She said there was someone she wanted Eddie to meet.

“Eddie, this is my cousin, Matthew.”

It hit Eddie that Ashley had talked about her cousin to him before.

“Hi.” Eddie smiled.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you.” Matthew smiled back.

Eddie didn’t know very much about flirting, but he did see Matthew look him up and down. It sort of made him feel good, just knowing that he was desirable despite the fact that he felt pretty gross about himself ever since his stay at the hospital. It was interesting. But he didn’t really want the attention from anyone except Richie.

Matthew didn’t know that though. He was really nice, like Ashley. And he was … well, good looking for sure. Eddie could _look_ a little. They talked for a long time. 

Eddie didn’t want to give off the wrong impression though. He hoped he wasn’t being too friendly. He guessed Ashley had introduced them because she thought that Eddie was single. He hadn’t told her about what had happened between him and Richie. He didn’t know how to explain something that just _was_ . Plus, he didn’t know if he could or should call Richie his _boyfriend_. Again with over complicating it.

Not wanting to linger and give the wrong impression, Eddie went to the kitchen to down the rest of his drink and get another one. Alone in the kitchen, Eddie gripped the counter, reeling in the anxiety that was threatening to come back.

Richie had broken away from whatever he was doing and followed him into the kitchen. “Holy shit, that guy’s into you.” Richie was leaned in close to Eddie’s ear, whispering all breathy and smelling like whiskey.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. A blush raised up on his neck. “Yeah, I guess.” He turned to lean against the counter, look at Richie better.

“He’s hot.” Richie was still talking close to his ear though. His hand was on the counter, caging Eddie in a little bit. “Not as hot as you, but I have eyes.” 

Eddie felt warm all over. “He’s nice to look at.” He agreed quietly. “Are you jealous?” He teased.

“A little.” Richie said quietly.

“Don’t be. He’s not really my type.” Eddie said. “I like tall, goofy assholes with thick glasses.”

Richie grinned at him. “Don’t break his heart, baby.” He leaned in to kiss Eddie. 

Eddie was just drunk enough not to shoo him away and kissed him back. It was intimate being alone in the dim-lit kitchen, with string lights and a stupid plastic grim reaper lurking near the corner of the kitchen being the only one to listen in. Hands snuck under that jean jacket, that even under the puffy jacket layer, just made Richie unfairly attractive. Even as Marty McFly. Eddie always thought Richie was hot. It was just an unfair situation all around. His nerves were always getting the best of him when it came to getting intimate. He was drunk and felt bold. Of course, he didn’t really want the first time he touched Richie’s dick to be while he was drunk, or while he was in Ashley’s kitchen. Talk about feeling like teenagers. He gripped Richie's sides tighter.

It would have once outraged him to think about making out in the dark corner of someone else’s kitchen. But Eddie thought that it was sort of romantic, knowing that Ashley and John had their own secret moments together in the house. He wanted Richie more than he ever wanted anything in his entire life. Richie was his anchor, his fucking soulmate. Eddie had never believed in anything like that before. At least, if he had ever, it had faded along with the memories of the rest of the pieces of him. He wanted him so badly. But for now, kissing him like this in their secluded corner of the buzzing party, was just enough to get him by.

Richie pulled away, breath heaving. “Okay - I’m going to get another beer before we make this any more inappropriate.” He grinned.

Eddie laughed softly as he let Richie go. His heart was beating in his ears. He and Richie poured themselves another secret shot and cheered to being losers.

Within the next hour, Eddie was sloshed. He was drunk, just like he’d wanted to be. The room wasn’t spinning, but he was one drink away from it. He was pleasantly wobbly, especially as he’d swatted at one of the hanging ghosts and called it a bastard.

Ashley got him a bottle of water and they went outside to the back deck to get some fresh air. Lucy was with them. Eddie sat down on one of the chairs to let Lucy put her paws in his lap and lick his face. He was baby-talking to her, and she was absolutely loving it.

Eddie let out a heavy breath as he gently pushed Lucy down. He patted her head once more. “Ashley, now that I'm done making out with your dog, I want you to know that I think your cousin is very cute and very nice. Also you’re very cute and very nice, but in a different way because I am attracted to men.”

“Okay.” Ashley giggled.

“Um, but okay, the real tea is that I think I’m in a relationship, so I can’t make out with your cousin even though I think he wants to.”

Ashley shook her head. “Wait, you’re in a relationship? Shit, Eddie. Sorry. I was trying to set you up.”

“It’s okay. I just think that I’m in a relationship. I don’t really know.”

“Wait, what?” She asked with a laugh.

“Richie and I have been making out a lot. And we like even went on a date.” Eddie explained. He stood up, hand to his forehead. “Apparently we’ve been in love since we were like ten years old.”

Ashley grinned. “I knew it.”

“So I’m so so so sorry if I led on your cousin, because he’s so nice! He’s so nice.” Eddie was putting his hand on Ashley’s shoulder as if that emphasized how nice her cousin was.

“Probably because he’s trying to fuck you.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie stepped back, unsure of whether to be uncomfortable or proud of himself for being a conquest.

“I can’t believe you’ve been dating Richie and haven’t told me!” Ashley said.

“Well … because I’m not sure what to call it.”

“Dating?”

“That sounds so fucking juveinille.”

“So?”

“Wow.” Eddie considered it. “I just love him and I don’t like to talk about things because what if he thinks I’m crazy or something.”

“If he also loves you then he won’t care even if you are crazy.” Ashley informed him.

“Okay.”

//

On their way back home, Eddie grabbed Richie’s hand. Richie swung their hands a little, smiling to himself. It was a stumbly, giggly walk in the crisp night. His heart was full and his cheeks were hot from the drinks. It felt nice. He imagined being in LA with Eddie, bringing him back from one of his stupid press parties. He couldn’t wait to be able to show him off. That was if Eddie agreed to go there with him.

“Have fun?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah. I like Ashley and John.” Richie said.

“Me too. I’m disappointed that they aren’t our permanent neighbors.”

 _Our_.

“We’ll just have to come back and visit them.” Richie smiled. He tried not to think about the fact that Eddie hadn’t said yes to moving in with him yet, that they weren’t planning their future together quite yet. It was hard too not to when he had Eddie’s hand in his on a walk home.

Once they were back and inside the warmth of the living room, Eddie pulled on one of Richie’s hands. He pulled him down the hall, into the bedroom. They plopped on the bed and Eddie, all disheveled and drunk, kissed Richie. It was sloppy and slow, making heat stir deep in Richie’s gut. He went to drape a leg over Eddie but remembered his shoes. On the bed. A strict no for a reasonably sober Eddie.

Richie pulled back and kicked his shoes off. “I fucking hate shoes anyway.”

“What have shoes ever done to you?” Eddie asked. He was laying on his back, still wearing that pilot costume and boots were hanging off the edge of the bed. Just barely.

“Been uncomfortable. I hate wearing them.” Richie said as he sat up further to unzip Eddie’s boots. But Eddie in boots. Richie fought the urge to quite literally become a boot licker in that moment. He instead pulled them off while Eddie spoke.

“I don’t understand how you walk outside without them on the deck. It’s gross.”

Richie laughed. “Oh come on. It’s just the deck.”

“It’s the outdoors. Shoes are supposed to be worn outdoors.” Eddie insisted.

“Are you one of those assholes that wears their shoes up to the edge of the pool and takes them off and leaves them in everyone’s way?” Richie asked. “Because the rules are at my pool, no shoes near the stairs.”

“You have a pool?” Eddie asked. He sat up a little.

“Yup and a hot tub.” Richie leaned closer to Eddie again. “That convince you to move in with me yet?”

“It’s a bonus.” Eddie smiled.

Richie laughed. He wasn’t trying to be pushy, but … he couldn’t help reminding Eddie that he was still more than welcome to move in. Eddie was so cute, grinning at him the way that he was. His cheeks were tinged pink from alcohol too, making those freckles stand out against his cheeks. They had faded some since they weren’t spending as much time outside. Richie was looking forward to them being a permanent thing once they were in the California sun.

Shrugging off the puffy vest layer of his outfit, Richie couldn’t help teasing Eddie a little. “So Matthew!” Richie said. “He was into you.”

“Oh my god, are you a jealous boyf - “ Eyes widened and he cut himself off. 

“A jealous what?” Richie asked. 

“Uh - is it … ridiculous to call you my boyfriend?”

Richie beamed. “No, not at all.”

“Okay.” Eddie was fighting to grin just as wide. “Are you a fucking jealous _boyfriend_?”

“I don’t know.” Richie said thoughtfully. “I’ve never really been someone’s boyfriend.”

Eddie stared at Richie for a moment. “You’ve never dated anyone?”

“Well, not seriously enough to be called their _boyfriend_. I mean, except for a PR stunt before I went to rehab. That was yikes.”

“Well.”

“Guess that makes you my first boyfriend.” Richie pointed out.

Eddie pulled Richie’s hand up to kiss the back of it. “I’m honored.”

//

A shriveled up, over-cooked egg. That was what Eddie felt like when he woke up. His head was hurting. His mouth was dry and tasted disgusting. He licked over dry lips. A hand went to his forehead and he groaned under his breath. Then the urge to vomit hit him. Maybe he overdid it the night before. He quickly rolled out of bed, heavy feet hitting the floor. He went to the bathroom to throw up. It ached deep in his gut, up to his chest, made his head pound when he threw up. He ignored how gross it was for him to wrap his arm around the toilet. He stayed that way for a few minutes before vomiting again.

Once he threw up, he felt better at least. He stood up and brushed his teeth, then took one of his high dose ibuprofen. He shed his briefs (Christ, he had slept in his underwear) and turned on the shower.

The water from the shower helped. The ibuprofen helped more. He shuffled to the kitchen in a towel to get a glass of water. He downed a glass. Then a second. Then he went to brush his teeth again. The sun was entirely too bright, so he went back to the bedroom.

He put a pair of shorts and a t-shirt on, then crawled into the blankets.

Richie was laying on his back, arms behind his head. “How you feelin’ drunky mcdrunk?” Richie murmured. 

“Hungover.” Eddie grumbled.

Richie giggled.

“Oh shush.” Eddie smiled as he turned to his side to put a hand on Richie’s chest. He traced a line between his pecs, fingers playing with the hair. Richie hummed out a content little noise. “Richie?”

“Hm?”

“I just … I wanted you to know that I’m completely sober and I still want to be boyfriends.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Boyfriends. Partners. Lovers. Whatever you want to call us, I want to be that.”

Richie turned over onto his side to face Eddie. His eyes were sleepy, thick circles and a little eye goop. Messy hair went in all directions, some plastered to his forehead. Eddie reached to push it back away from his skin. “I want it all.” Richie said and wrapped his hand around Eddie’s wrist to keep him close.

“Me too.” Eddie smiled. Ignoring morning breath and sweat and whatever else could be gross about just waking up, Eddie kissed Richie. He tipped his head down a little, hand drawing in toward his chest. “This is all new to me.”

“You’re telling me.” Richie said.

“I’ve never been with someone who I actually like.” Eddie said. “I’ve never had someone care for me … love me … without having ulterior motives.”

Richie put his hand under Eddie’s chin, tipping his head back so that Eddie was looking at him. “Eddie, baby - ”

“I know. I know you love me unconditionally. I don’t know how I know, but I just _do_. I can feel it every time you look at me.”

“Eds.”

“It’s overwhelming, but in a good way. And I feel the same way, you know? It’s hard for me to properly express myself because I never have actually felt like this. I do love you, Richie. I love you very much.”

Richie had to pull his hand away to wipe his tears.

Eddie put his hands on Richie’s face, fingers tracing the stubble along his jaw. “We’re doing everything backwards.” Eddie said with a gentle laugh.

“Is there really a rule book on how to be in a relationship?”

“If there is, I’d like to glance at it.”

Richie smiled. “Hey - you’re doing a good job without it.”

“Am I?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah. Like really good.” Richie insisted.

Eddie smiled, feeling warm inside. He snuggled up to Richie. The rest of the morning was filled with naps, sleepy kisses, and quiet murmurs of _I love you_.


	13. Who's The Romantic One Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie gets some good news, then Richie gets some good news too! 
> 
> Also, things heat up a little bit in this chapter. 😳🥵
> 
> Warning: anxiety, previous abusive relationships, and explicit NSFW

_I lie awake in the night just to see another dawn  
_ _Used to be the sun was my weakness but them days are gone  
_ _I feel your lips on mine  
_ _Will you meet me by the river, baby, one more time?_

_\- Lord Huron_

* * *

The trees were dying. Their bright fiery colors were fading to brown. Grey skies leaked through dark limbs. It was a particularly gloomy day when Richie and Eddie were on the way to Eddie’s doctor’s appointment in Maine.

All that Eddie wanted was a new version of his life that didn’t involve doctor’s appointments and divorce trials. A little over a month had passed since he had been to the doctor last, but he still had hangups and anxiety about going. He was afraid to mention his hand. He didn’t want to find out that there was more nerve damage than they originally thought. He didn’t want to be told to come back again soon. He didn’t want to go back to physical therapy when he was perfectly capable of working out on his own. He could already smell the sterile smell of the hospital, of doctor’s offices and of physical therapy rooms. Those rooms still reminded him of all of all the sickness his mother told him that he had. 

_Sickness isn’t the same thing as injury._

And as far as injuries went, Eddie was much, much better. All things considered, Eddie was in a (fairly) good place mentally, but the trip to the doctor was triggering his anxiety. He was aware enough of his own issues that he could separate realistic worries from anxiety and trauma related worries. That was a huge step on its own. Through all of that anxiety and paranoia, he could still tell himself that, realistically, this was going to be his last doctor’s appointment for a while.

He was probably shaken because early this morning, he’d received an email from his divorce lawyer about how Myra was claiming that she wouldn’t be able to survive on the alimony that had been projected. And Eddie wasn’t so sure that he could afford what they were trying to settle on, much less _more_ than that. But at the meeting, they were throwing around the word _infidelity_. Eddie was pissed off because how would anyone even _know_. It hadn't exactly been true at the time. Eddie was trying really hard not to be the asshole. Disappearing one night, then staying with a man for several months wasn't helping.

Eddie had checked his phone during the divorce meeting back in New York, texted Richie. Myra saw it. She was angry. Very angry. Which Eddie supposed she had a right to be. He was trying to disconnect himself from feeling sorry for her, but it was hard. He wanted to be fair, but she wasn't being fair. Myra was getting the house. It was a nice townhouse in Manhattan in a good neighborhood, more than halfway paid off. Eddie understood that he was up and leaving her without the same more-than-comfortable income that they had together. He could live with owing her money. But she was attempting to manipulate him through legalities. She wanted more, but she wasn’t just being greedy. She was purposefully slowing down the process so that they might have to see each other again, so they would still be connected.

Eddie refused to back down. He wanted the divorce to be over though. He wanted to move on with his life and never think about Myra ever again. He tried very hard not to think about her outside of his therapy sessions. When Eddie called his therapist from the bathroom floor of his hotel room in New York while having a meltdown post-divorce meeting, his therapist had talked him through why he was feeling trapped and uncomfortable. It was like seeing things in a new light, despite the fact that his therapist had been trying to explain this to Eddie all along. It finally made sense to him. Eddie’s therapist had finally convinced him that he had been in an abusive relationship.

Eddie didn’t want Richie anywhere near that kind of shit.

It was bad enough that Richie was still being dragged along with him to the doctors appointments because Eddie was afraid that something bad would happen. Whether it be physical or mental. Also he secretly didn’t want to cross the Maine state line alone. He couldn’t wait until he never had to do it again. On their way to the appointment, Richie was really patient with Eddie’s road rage and speeding. He hardly even made a joke, except to call Eddie ‘Speedy Gonzales’ because he was fast and tiny. Eddie tried to be offended by it. Richie was such a trooper dealing with all of Eddie’s anxiety-related rants (that all had nothing to do with what he was _actually_ anxious about and were all deflections of his real feelings). 

All of the paranoia wasn’t necessary because at the appointment, Eddie’s doctor cleared him for four months. He was in perfectly good shape. " _Healthy."_ Doctor Mohan had told Eddie. He was supposed to call if his hand got worse, but other then that he was good to go. Eddie was so relieved that he didn’t know what to say or do. 

Eddie felt free. 

He had no problem driving them home. The drive made him feel even more free, really. While music hummed in the background, those dead trees made the pink and gold hues of the sunset more visible as they rushed past their windows. Eddie was going to miss those drives. He was going to miss moving forward in the intimacy of the small space, filled with stories and laughter or comfortable silence. It was comfortable now, like they were both wrapped up in one of the sweaters that Bev sent. Richie had made a playlist for them. It was enveloping Eddie in a warmth that was spreading from his heart down to his toes. He could have cried thinking about how lucky he was to feel that way. 

//

Richie knew that he was being very dramatic about the cold. He hadn’t spent his whole adult life in LA, but he had been there long enough that he wasn’t used to weather below 50 degrees. He was always burying himself in blankets, but refusing to put on socks, much to Eddie’s cute little grumbly annoyance. Currently, Richie was curled up on the couch under a fuzzy blanket, toes tucked in the couch cushion, and head in Eddie’s lap as he half paid attention to one of Eddie’s reality shows.

His phone lit up from the coffee table to let him know that Steve was calling him. He (very reluctantly) detangled himself from Eddie and the couch as he answered the phone. He brought the blanket with him when he got up, draping it over his shoulders like a cape. “Hey, Stevey ole pal.”

“Richie, I have something for you.”

It was very short notice. Richie was afraid that the show wouldn’t sell out. But he had a show. Performing his own material. In New York City. At a famous comedy club, just days before Christmas. He could have jumped out of his skin he was so excited. And nervous. And _oh fuck_. 

“Eds.” 

Eddie sat up straight, pausing the TV.

A smile was slowly filling in Richie's features, overtaking the look of worry or shock. Richie let out a breath. “I ... I got a show in New York and I’m going to do my own fucking material.”

Eddie pushed himself off the couch. “That’s amazing, Richie!” He wrapped Richie up in his arms and squeezed him tightly. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Thanks.” Richie was bent to rest his chin against Eddie’s shoulder. He leaned into him. “I’m actually kinda proud of myself.”

Eddie pulled back, hands moving to cup Richie’s face. “You should be.”

Richie’s smile was watery. He was admittedly a little emotional about the whole thing, but mostly, Eddie just made him feel good and it made him get emotional.

“None of that.” Eddie said, thumb brushing across Richie’s cheek to catch the tear. “We’re celebrating, okay?”

“I haven’t actually done the show yet. I could still fuck up.” Richie couldn’t help blurting out.

“None of that either!” Eddie scrunched his face up disapprovingly.

“Fine.” Richie grinned. He leaned in to kiss Eddie, short and quick.

Eddie reluctantly peeled away from Richie to get them a celebratory beer. Richie followed him to the kitchen where he turned on the bluetooth speaker. Music spilled into the air as the sound of a beer cap hiss open. Richie downed part of his beer. His mind was racing. He was really going to go out there, in front of all those people, and tell his own stories. His stomach was dropping down into his ass.

“Richie?” Eddie broke him out of his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

“Mm.” Richie took another swig from his drink. He was feeling clammy and nervous. “I actually have material in there about … being gay.” He frowned. “I’m - Eddie, I’m ... scared.”

“You’re too brave to be scared.” Eddie reached for Richie’s free hand to squeeze.

Richie felt vulnerable. Not for the first time since he’d been reunited with his friends and reminded of his childhood — the good parts and the traumatic parts. He felt vulnerable, yet, still somehow safe with Eddie. Like if all of the bad things that he thought about himself were true, Eddie wasn’t going to judge him. He did realize that Eddie loved him unconditionally. Eddie loved him and Eddie liked him. Eddie genuinely believed in him.

The feeling was overwhelming. If he sat back and thought about it for too long, he nearly felt like ripping his hair out, because how? How after all this time was the universe aligning so perfectly? He felt like he might explode with the love that Eddie was giving him and the love that he wanted to give in return.

The easier route was to leave all of those emotions buried deep and not address why they were so hard to face. Eddie was patient with him, despite the fact that he turned everything into a joke when he got uncomfortable or didn’t want to talk about something. Eddie was pushing him, ever so gently, to feel comfortable revealing the things that still scared him, all of the feelings, all of the self-doubt. Richie had struggles that he never even tried to put into words. Those things were threatening to leak through the dam that he’d built up over the years.

This time at the lake house was about Eddie healing, about Eddie’s recovery. It would have been selfish for Richie to put all of his problems out on the table. But Eddie made him feel comfortable. Eddie made him feel like it was normal to talk about the way he felt. Eddie never, ever made him feel like his feelings were a burden.

Richie was quiet. His hand was a little limp in Eddie’s. “Because of _you_. I’m brave because of you.”

“Richie.” Eddie said with his brows knit together.

Richie had turned away from Eddie though. He put his already finished beer down so he could grip the edge of the counter. Richie’s shoulders were hunched and teeth grit as he held back the tears that were threatening to come. “God, Eddie - I just, sometimes I don’t think that I - ” He cut himself off.

“What, Richie?”

“I don’t _deserve_ all of the good things that are happening to me.”

“What are you talking about, Richie? Yes you do.” Eddie insisted.

“No - I’m not good, Eddie.” 

Richie glanced up at Eddie, who’s brows furrowed, the line between them thick. “Of course you are.” Eddie said softly.

“The version of me that existed between Derry and now wasn’t great. And that part of me feels like a weird person I don’t even know anymore, but it’s still a part of _me_.”

“That’s a part of who you’ve been and it’s okay if you aren’t perfect. No one is.” Eddie said quietly.

“Sometimes I still feel like that person.” Richie said. “Those horrible jokes, that shitty I don’t care about anything attitude.” Richie shook his head. “It’s the person that I let myself be. And now, after everything, I’m going to just go in front of a crowd and act like that never happened, that I’m a new person or something?"

"How can you ever be more authentic if you don't go out there and just _do it_?" Eddie asked.

"I don't know. I don't know if I know how to be authentic." Richie mumbled.

“We all changed, Richie." Eddie said. "We've been through a fucking lot. Even if we're trying to better ourselves, that shit is not going to happen over night.”

Richie stopped. He was over-talking and over-thinking, possibly on the verge of a panic attack. He hated this. He couldn't count the amount of times that he'd done a comedy set. Literal thousands of times. Maybe he wasn't ready to expose himself to the whole world like this, now that he understood everything about himself. Something changed him permanently after they went down into the sewers. Something good had changed inside him, because he felt whole again. There was still something unmistakably bad looming within him. He wondered if it was the deadlights. He wondered if Bev had felt like this over the last twenty seven years or if there was just something deeply wrong with Richie.

He was just freaking out. That was okay. He was allowed the have a moment, right? He'd been mostly in control of himself since Derry. 

He couldn't just walk away from this show. He had to do it, right? Steve had done all this work to make it possible. He had already said yes. He couldn't change his mind.

Richie shook his head, then suddenly. "I almost just _left_.”

“What?” Eddie asked gently. He put his hand on Richie’s shoulder. 

Richie shrugged away, not used to being touched by someone who actually gave a shit. “In Derry. I almost just said fuck all of you and left.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I’m selfish.”

“You’re not.” Eddie insisted. “You - you bring out the good things in people. You make people smile. You’ve fucking stayed here with me for months, not knowing what I’m going to do, just being here for me. I see you texting Stan to check on him. I hear you call Mike to make sure he isn’t lonely. Richie, _you_ carried me out of the sewers. I remember.”

“I _couldn’t_ leave you there.” Richie’s throat was thick with emotion, voice cracking a little.

“A selfish person might have.”

“It doesn’t count when I do things for you.” Richie said, throat thick with tears threatening to burst out.

“Sure it does.”

“It’s because I love you.”

Eddie stepped close to Richie again, careful with touching him. He put two hands on Richie’s arms. “Selfish, bad people can’t love like you can.” 

Richie swallowed hard, lip trembling a little. Richie was smiling, despite everything that he had just admitted out loud. It was a watery smile, emotional.

“You know I’m being honest.” Eddie reached up to brush his thumb under Richie’s eye to catch a tear.

“I know. I - I’m trying to believe you.”

“Good.” Eddie said. “You’ve done so much for me, you deserve to feel good about it. You deserve good things, Richie. You deserve a chance to show everyone the person who you really are, the person you want to be, the person I love.”

Richie nodded, swallowing hard. “Thanks, Eddie.”

Eddie smiled at him. He was cupping his cheek, and Richie was leaning into it. He felt safer. He felt warm. Eddie’s touch was helping to ease the whirlwind of emotion that was stirring in his gut, the horrible things that were attempting to surface in his brain. Richie pushed it all back to do what he did best.

“I did save your life with my super-blood.” Richie teased.

“If you didn’t have lifesaving blood, who knows what would have happened.” Eddie's hands curled into the front of Richie's shirt.

“Lifesaving blood. I like that.” Richie grinned a little.

“You like being my hero?” Eddie asked.

“Stop.” Richie mumbled, a tugging in his heart making him feel weird. He didn't feel like any kind of hero, but as long as Eddie thought that he was good, he'd believe it.

“You _are_.” Eddie insisted.

Richie leaned in to kiss him. “You’re mine.” He kissed him again. Then again.

Eddie was cupping the back of Richie’s neck, tugging him down for a deeper kiss. Eddie pushed against Richie’s chest with firm hands, kissing him and steering him back against the counter. Richie grunted softly into his mouth when his ass met the edge of the counter. Eddie’s hand caged him in against it, the other curling into his side, squeezing his love handles. Eddie was licking into his mouth, claiming every part of it with his tongue until he was panting into his mouth.

“You trying to get that lifesaving blood to flow south?” Richie asked. “Cause it’s working.”

“Maybe a little.” Eddie gave a snort of a laugh. His hand squeezed Richie’s side tightly again.

Richie pulled back a little. He met Eddie's gaze. “You know ... back in the hospital while they were taking my blood to give to you, the whole time I was thinking ‘I’m going to get inside him. One way or another.’”

Eddie looked at him for a pause, brows furrowed, before it really registered what he'd just said. Eddie broke into a bark of a laugh. "Jesus fucking Christ, Richie." He shoved at Richie's chest, before he started laughing so hard that he put all his weight on Richie, curling into him and belly-laughing. Richie was laughing too, arms squeezing Eddie tightly to him. “You’re disgusting.” Eddie said through his laughter.

Richie was beaming at Eddie’s reaction. “What? I worked really hard on that one. You didn’t think it was heroic and romantic?”

Eddie shook his head. “Yes. Again, my fucking hero.” Eddie's arms were back around his sides, giving him a squeeze. He leaned up to kiss him gently. "You gonna use that one in your stand up routine?"

"No, that was special for you, Eds." Richie laughed softly. He rubbed his hands gently along Eddie's back.

Eddie was quiet for a long pause. He pulled back a little to look at Richie again. Hands moved to Richie's forearms. “Since we’re being candidly unsexy and honest, I have a question.”

“Candidly unsexy.” Richie repeated.

“Shut up.” Eddie looked down, grinning a little. Then he met Richie's gaze again, looking serious. “Is that what you want?”

“What?” Richie asked. For once, it wasn’t just to hear Eddie explain himself. The conversation was really flip-flopping around.

Eddie took in a breath, cheeks turning brighter pink as he spoke. “When we actually … have sex do you want to be the one to ... ?”

“Oh.” Richie felt his cheeks heat up and knew that they were brighter red than Eddie’s. Richie was shit at saying what he wanted, even sexually. He barely knew what he wanted. He just knew that when he jerked off in the shower, he thought about Eddie fucking _him_. “Uh. Not particularly.”

“Then what do _you_ want?” Eddie asked.

“What do you want?” Richie repeated.

“I asked first.” Eddie said. “Besides, you’re the sex expert, remember?”

“Man, I should have known rolling with that one would come back to bite me.” Richie laughed softly.

Eddie grinned a little. He gripped Richie’s arms a little tighter. “Well? What do you think about when you masturbate?”

“Oh my god.” Richie _was_ flustered. It was almost like Eddie already knew what he wanted, but just wanted to hear Richie say it. The tables turned a little.

“All the jerking off jokes, the I fucked your mom jokes, the big dick jokes and you can’t actually have a mature conversation about sex.” Eddie grinned wider.

“I can!” Richie insisted.

Eddie tilted his head a little. He put one hand on the back of Richie’s neck, cradling his head a little. “Then tell me what you want, Richie.”

“I want - I want you to put it in me.”

“Put it in you?” Eddie snorted. “What are we, in the seventh grade?”

“Well - ” Richie was still flustered. His hands were playing with the edges of Eddie’s shirt.

“If you’re not mature enough to say it, you’re not mature enough to do it.” Eddie teased.

“Now you’re just being mean.” Richie broke into a little bit of a smile. “Stop laughing at me!”

Eddie laughed softly. “It’s okay. I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet anyway.” He said quietly. “But it is fun to get you flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.” Richie insisted.

“Okay, babe.” Eddie kissed him gently.

Richie smiled against Eddie’s lips, the pet name making him feel warm. Yes, he felt a little embarrassed, but still safe. It was a good distraction from what was eating away at his insides.

//

After all that honest talk, and despite the fact that they had exchanged some pretty unsexy stuff that evening, there was something hanging in the air between them. Eddie was giving in to the fact that he wanted Richie so incredibly and it felt _good_. It felt more than good, it was an indulgence like he’d never allowed himself before. Not that he’d allowed himself much, which made it all the more overwhelming. He had been pining for so long that once he finally allowed himself to have Richie like this, he felt like his insides were melting, his bones ached with the longing, despite having him right there. It was too much and he was too much.

Eddie had never, ever spent this much time thinking about sex. He thought that people were exaggerating or over-compensating when they talked about sex so much. In fact, he always thought it was kind of disgusting how much other people thought about sex. He thought that _he_ was disgusting for how much he was thinking about sex now. He hadn’t even touched Richie’s dick yet and it seemed like sex was all that he thought about. He wondered if crossing more lines would make it better or worse.

His hands cradled Richie’s face. Richie was grinning wide, those crinkles forming more deeply beside his eyes. He tilted his head down, forehead brushing against Eddie’s and eyes closed. Eddie closed his eyes too, taking in a deep breath - breathing Richie in. Richie’s arms tightened around him, hands digging into his skin in a way that made him feel secure and made him long for more. Richie was warm. He was safe.

Hands went from Richie’s face to trail down his body, taking in what he could. Richie was so incredible. He was always driving Eddie crazy with how _big_ he was. He was broad and soft. His arms could wrap all the way around him and they were. One of Eddie’s hands gripped onto the front of Richie’s shirt, curling in and tugging Richie down further so that he could kiss him. Richie kissed him back like they were made to be kissing each other. There was a softness there, one passing between them that was building into something dangerously passionate. Richie’s tongue brushed between the seam of his lips and Eddie chased the feeling with his own tongue. He practically moaned against Richie’s lips when he licked more purposefully into his mouth.

“I … I think if you want more, I want more.” Eddie murmured. “Not all the way but … ”

“You have to tell me what you want.” Richie swallowed hard, Eddie’s eyes were on his Adam’s Apple bobbing.

“Bedroom first?” Eddie suggested. 

"Yeah, okay."

They moved through the hall to the bedroom, half drunken beers forgotten. Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off Richie. Eddie had him pinned against the wall in the hallway, kissing him deeply. They kissed more and more until Eddie was slotting his leg between Richie’s legs, thigh rubbing deliberately against Richie’s hard dick. Richie was moaning against Eddie’s mouth. His palms were red hot against Eddie’s skin, under his shirt.

“Fuck - fuck, Eddie. I’m going to fucking cum in my pants if you don’t stop.”

Heat spiked through Eddie at the words, thinking he could do that to Richie. It took everything inside of Eddie to peel himself away from Richie. He gave them room to breathe for a pause. “I want to … I want to _see_ you. All of you. I want to touch you. Maybe.” Eddie tried to explain, but was looking flustered.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

Eddie grabbed Richie’s wrist, gently tugging him toward the bedroom, feeling eager and nervous. Richie was clearly nervous too and Eddie thought that it was incredibly cute. Eddie sat on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to him. Richie sat down, head turning to capture Eddie’s mouth in another kiss. Richie unbuttoned and peeled his own shirt off. Eddie automatically cupped a pec with one hand and moved to kiss his neck. Richie tilted his head back. Low noises of pleasure rumbled in his throat.

Eddie kept his head ducked into the crook of Richie’s neck, cheeks burning hot. “Richie, I want you so badly.” Eddie said against his skin. He took in a deep breath. He pulled back to look Richie in the eye. “I’ve been thinking about going further for a long time. We’ve been so honest with each other … it makes me feel so _good_. I don’t know how else to express it. I just want more.”

Richie smiled. He leaned in to brush his nose against Eddies. “Hey, I’ve got you. You’ve got me.” Richie closed the space between them with another kiss.

Eddie broke the kiss to pull his shirt over his head. He scooted up the bed, hands pulling at Richie’s arm to bring him with him. Richie happily came along, moving to put his knees on either side of Eddie’s hips and straddled his waist. He hovered over Eddie, smiling warmly at him. Eddie reached up to straighten his glasses.

“I want - Richie, I want _you_ . I'm just - I’m _nervous_.” Eddie admitted quietly.

“Just ... don’t think too much.” Richie said.

“Easy for you to say. You never think.” The corner of his mouth pulling at a teasing smile.

“Well, I’m thinking right now.” Richie said.

“About what?” Eddie asked.

”You.”

Eddie leaned up to kiss him quickly. “You’re too fucking romanic.” He said softly. Arms wrapped around Richie’s broad shoulders.

“I’m just honest.” Richie said earnestly. 

Eddie could have melted. He felt overwhelmed by the way that Richie loved him. He wanted to be impossibly closer. He pressed kisses against Richie’s neck, then he sucked a bruising mark into the skin. Richie moaned out, pressing down tight against him. Eddie licked gently over the red mark. His heart was beating quickly, threatening to leap out of his throat. “Richie.” His voice came out breathless.

Richie leaned down for a searing kiss. Eddie pushed himself up into it. He rocked his hips into Richie’s, moaning against his lips. Eddie’s cock was pressed against the crease of Richie’s thigh. Even through the fabric of their pants, it was too much. But Eddie kept pushing his hips up, rubbing his cock against the spot. And he could feel Richie’s cock straining against his stomach through denim. He could hear the sharp breaths that Richie took in each time he rocked his hips. Richie was bearing down on him, quiet noises caught in his throat. Eddie wanted to hear him make all those noises and more.

“I want to see your dick and see what happens.” Eddie blurted out.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck.” Richie breathed out. He pulled himself away and moved to lay beside Eddie. His hands were in the button of his jeans. “I’m so fucking hard. You wanna watch me jerk off?”

Eddie was moving with Richie before he realized, hand splayed out on Richie’s stomach. “Yes.” Fingers curled into his skin when he said it.

Richie hurried to unbutton his jeans. He pushed his pants down, leaving him in his boxers and socks. “You um, you sure?” Richie asked, looking nervous. His fingers were playing on the waistband of his boxers.

“I want to see you, Richie.” Eddie leaned over to kiss him gently. He sucked Richie’s bottom lip between his teeth. 

Richie gasped out. “Okay.”

Fingers tucked into the waistband of his boxers, and Richie was shoving them down and kicking them into the floor. He took in a deep breath. Toes wiggles nervously in his socks.

Eddie was leaning in closer. He’d never really seen anyone else’s dick. There were the obvious times. Like in the gym locker room, when Eddie was made to participate in the humiliating parts of gym class, like changing and showering, despite the fact that he wasn’t allowed to participate in anything else. The fact that Eddie had been best friends with five other boys who spent lots of time out in the woods together pissing on trees and stripping to swim in the quarry, who stayed over at each other's houses. More recently, he tried to watch porn, but he remembered being too fixated on the guy and giving up, and also being afraid that Myra would overhear. He had seen a dick or two.

Nothing like this though. Not in an intimate way that actually meant something.

Richie was incredible. He was masculine and musky and _Richie_. His chest was a broad stretch of skin covered in hair, then his stomach was a large stretch of skin dusted in less hair, except the thicker trail of hair leading down to a patch of hair where his dick poked out, hard and brushing against his stomach. Eddie’s eyes raked over Richie and stopped on his pink, leaking cock. His dick was thick, was the first thing that Eddie thought. Then he thought that the tip was really red and really wet. Eddie bit down on his bottom lip. His hand twitched at his side with the urge to touch him.

Richie’s hand moved to wrap around his own cock. His thumb traced over the sticky head, wet with precum. He huffed out a breath. His skin was bright red down to his chest. With a slow motion, Richie fisted his cock. He was holding back, Eddie could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat. Eddie reached out and placed his hand over Richie’s. They caught each other's gaze. “Eddie.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Eddie mumbled.

“Fuck, Eddie. I don’t know either. I just want you. I want to touch _you_.” Richie stroked his cock slowly. “I want - I want to touch your dick. I wanna make you feel good.”

Eddie shifted where he was pressed against Richie’s side, still clothed cock rubbing against the side of Richie’s thigh. “Fuck - ” Eddie moved away from Richie this time. He pushed his pants and underwear off in a hurry before he could change his mind. Then, just as naked as Richie was, he settled next to him.

Richie turned onto his side. Eddie could feel Richie’s eyes on him. He felt a gentle hand on his hip. “Look at you.” Richie murmured. “Can I touch you?”

Eddie let out a heavy breath. “Yeah.” He closed the space between them with a kiss, because kissing was familiar and felt good. He sucked Richie’s tongue into his mouth, and Richie moaned. Richie’s hand wrapped around his cock and Eddie gasped into his mouth. 

Brows knit together, and Eddie moaned against Richie’s lips as Richie’s hand drug slowly over his cock. Eddie shuttered, curling into Richie more. One leg raised to rest an ankle on Richie’s calf. A pressure was building in his stomach, down to his balls. 

“You like that, baby?” Richie asked, mouth close to his ear. 

“Yes.” Eddie’s fingers curled into the skin on Richie’s arm. He could feel the muscles working as Richie’s hand tugged slowly on his cock. It made Eddie crazy, hips following Richie’s movements.

“You like this a lot.” Richie swiped his thumb over the sensitive, leaking head of Eddie’s cock. A sharp pulse of pleasure shot through his body.

“ _Yes_ , I fucking do.” Eddie panted. He whined low in his throat. “Keep fucking doing that.”

“ _Oh_.” Richie swiped his thumb along the head of Eddie’s cock again. “Baby, you’re so sensitive.”

He was shaking, thighs tense and fingernails digging into Richie’s skin. He made a noise that was from deep within his body, a loud moan that he never would have allowed himself to make before. “Fuck.”

“That’s it, Eddie. All you have to do is feel good.” Richie was practically preening out the words.

Eddie was thrusting against Richie’s fist, and Richie was jerking him faster. “Richie - Richie - I’m gonna, fuck, I can’t - I’m gonna make a mess.”

“Oh, honey. That’s okay. We can worry about it later. I’ve got you.”

Eddie cried out again, clinging onto Richie as he fucked Richie’s fist. His whole body tensed, then it was like a wave crashed over him, making his vision white and all he wanted to do was feel. He spilled all over Richie’s fist and probably splashed onto the comforter and Richie’s stomach. He felt like crying, and maybe he did a little.

“Fuck.” Richie breathed out.

Eddie looked Richie over. His hand and stomach were sticky with Eddie’s spend. His cock was still stiff and the head was red. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.” Eddie murmured.

“Eddie, baby, no. That’s fucking amazing.” Richie took the hand that was dirty and wrapped it around his own cock. He moaned out, turning over onto his back.

“Richie - oh.” Eddie leaned into him, hand on Richie’s stomach. He should’ve thought that this was disgusting, and part of him knew it was. Rubbing bodily fluids on each other. He couldn’t be bothered to be turned off by it. He watched Richie with wide eyes, heart racing still. “You look so good. You made me feel so incredible.”

Richie was jerking himself faster than before. He practically whimpered at Eddie’s words.

“Richie, you’re so _good_.”

With a gasp, Richie came. He spilled over his fist, dripping down onto his stomach and globs caught in his public hair. Eddie wanted to touch him, but he didn’t let himself.

Eddie leaned over to kiss Richie. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

Richie looked so cute with his just-as-pink tinged cheeks and a few pieces of hair stuck to his forehead. Eddie was just too hyper aware of the mess. “That was amazing.” Eddie mumbled. “But I have to get cleaned up.”

“Yeah.” Richie was panting.

“Do you want to shower? I mean, one of us has to go first. We can’t sleep in our ... our - " Eddie made a vague gesture with his hand.

“Jizz?”

“Ugh.”

Richie laughed. 

After his shower, Eddie was under the blankets, all pulled up to his chin. He was cold from his damp hair. His limbs felt heavy. He was tried but his mind hadn't shut off once. When Richie came back to bed all fresh and clean, Eddie pushed himself under one of Richie’s arms. Richie squeezed him tightly. Eddie fell asleep for a few minutes, despite the lamp still being on. He woke up still under Richie’s arm. He blinked into consciousness and caught Richie smiling at him. He could have happily done this every day and never would have gotten tired of it. He wanted to do this every night and every morning.

“I want it to be like this forever.” Eddie said.

“Who’s the romantic one now?” Richie was smiling still.

Eddie shifted so that he could look more clearly at Richie. He felt that warmth that was stirring within him threaten to leak out from his pores, like every other time he said something that might change what was already between them and it ended up being good. Sometimes change was for the better, he had come to find out. The unknown wasn’t so scary when he had Richie there with him. 

“Richie, I want to spend every day with you.” Eddie said. "I want to move in with you. I want to go to LA."

It felt good to say.

“Eddie.” Richie was looking more alert, eyes shining with emotion. “Really?”

“Yeah. I knew that I wanted it when you asked me, but I just … it was such a big thing for me to want for myself. I guess I had to work my way to ... letting myself have things that I actually want. I totally got what you were saying earlier about everything working out too perfectly. It's ... it's scary, because I've never been this fucking happy either." Eddie let out a breath. "I want you to know that every single one of the doubts that I’ve had are because of me, not because of you. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you. You shouldn’t have to wait around on me. I feel like a dick, but I just - I needed to tell you.”

“Eddie, honey, please stop saying you’re sorry. I would wait forever for you.”

“But you shouldn’t have to!” Eddie insisted.

“Listen, I know that I talk out of my ass a lot, but I’m being serious." Richie touched Eddie's arm. "We have a lot of things to work through. It’s going to take us some time to be comfortable talking to each other like this, being honest."

“I just get so scared of changing things between us. I get scared that if something changes, it could … I don’t know, make things worse instead of better? But I know that as long as I’m with you, it’ll be okay.”

“I still feel that way sometimes.” Richie said.

“You do?” Eddie asked.

“Of course.” Richie smiled. “It scared the hell out of me asking you to move in. Just dropping that on you? I'm crazy."

Eddie laughed softly. "You're not crazy."

Richie rubbed his hand along Eddie's arm. "Every time that I get scared about what's going on between us, I remind myself that it’s _you_. That despite everything, we’re here together. That has to mean something.”

Eddie nodded. “Being with you, I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

Richie had tears in his eyes. “I fucking love you.” Eddie used his thumb to wipe the tear that streamed down Richie’s cheek. “You really want to move in with me?” Richie asked.

“Absolutely.” Eddie cupped Richie’s cheek. He leaned in and kissed him softly.

The kiss grew into everything that they still struggled with saying. Eddie could have melted into Richie, into the moment and lived there forever. Richie was giddy, started giggling into the kiss. He pushed Eddie onto his back, hovered over him and kissed his cheeks and neck. It made him feel cared for deep within his bones, in a way that no one ever had, unconditional and pure. The kisses made Eddie giggle too.

“God, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, baby.” Richie murmured into his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been waiting this whole entire fic to finally have Richie make that stupid blood joke!


	14. Get Used To It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie's family joins them at the lake house for Thanksgiving. Eddie gets some good news!
> 
> warning: less anxiety, more NSFW

_When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride_   
_When you need directions then I'll be the guide_   
_For all time_

\- Death Cab for Cutie

* * *

**Losers (minus Richie)**

**Eddie** : Richie has a show in New York in December. You guys should come! I’ll get your tickets and help in any way that I can. Let me know if you can make it.  
 **Bev** : Count me in.  
 **Ben** : Yeah (:  
 **Mike** : I wouldn’t miss it.  
 **Bill** : Of course!  
 **Stan** : Patty and I are in.  
 **Ben** : I miss you guys. I’m excited.  
 **Bev** : Is this a surprise?  
 **Eddie** : Should it be?  
 **Stan** : Absolutely.  
 **Bev** : >:)

.

The next time they talked about Richie's show, Richie told Eddie that he understood if Eddie wasn’t coming because it was New York, since on multiple occasions Eddie had explained that he didn't want to go back there. Ever. And deep down, Eddie was a little worried about going. He was worried that despite the city having a population of 8.3 million people, Myra would somehow run into them or find out about this. He discussed the whole thing with his therapist and his divorce lawyer, which were both helpful. His therapist thought it was a good idea to make new memories there. His divorce lawyer assured him that the divorce should be official by that time. Not that a document really meant anything, but it was symbolic at least.

He could make better memories with Richie in New York. He could have a little closure with that part of his life, maybe. 

One thing was for sure, Eddie found out that he was horrible at keeping the secrets from Richie. Sometimes he struggled finding a way to tell Richie things, but keeping an actual secret? It was pretty much driving him crazy. It was going to be worth it though. The rest of the losers were trying to coordinate for it to be a surprise for Richie before the show. Then after a night in NYC, they could travel back to the lake house and stay for a few nights.

At least with Thanksgiving fast-approaching, Eddie had other things to focus on. Eddie wasn’t sure why he was so nervous to be around Richie’s family again. Maybe because the last time hadn’t been _ideal_ . Maybe because this time he’d had their son’s hands and mouth all over him. Not that they would have any way of knowing that particular detail. But were they supposed to know that they were together? _Boyfriends_? He supposed that the smart thing to do was ask Richie instead of fret over it. He had a bad habit of not mentioning relationship-related worries with Richie. He was trying really hard to break that bad habit, because he had found that most of the time he was worrying for no reason.

It was dark outside. The glow from the dining room was almost romantic. Though Eddie found himself thinking that everything with Richie was romantic. He was living in a fucking Hallmark movie. Even as Richie talked about how he was feeling a little apprehensive about his parents coming for Thanksgiving and staying that night with them. Richie’s eyes were sparkling in a way that let Eddie know that he was anxious, but also excited.

Eddie didn’t want to make Richie even more anxious, but after a moment, “Richie?”

“What’s up, baby?” Richie asked.

“Are you … telling your parents about us being together?” Eddie asked.

Richie sucked in a heavy breath. “Well, I want to.” He rubbed his hands together before he went on. “I’m trying to be more open. Since this is something really fucking important, I think … I think it will be nice to tell them in person, you know?” Richie was rambling. He was nervous about it, clearly. 

Eddie put a gentle hand on Richie’s arm, rubbing his skin with his thumb. “But … ?” He prompted.

“Yeah, there’s definitely a but.” Richie moved his hand so that he could hold onto Eddie’s. “Last time was a fucking disaster. I hadn’t been there in so long. There was a lot to talk about.” Richie let out a heavy breath. “But maybe if I actually offer up some insight into what’s going on with me without having to be asked or ambushed, it will go better. And since this is actually good news for once.”

Eddie brought Richie’s hand up to kiss the back of it.

“Really good news.” Richie leaned on his elbow, a little smile letting Eddie know how serious he was. “I just - ” He sighed, looking back toward the table. “I don’t want mom to think that I’m trying to be dramatic or get attention. I’m afraid that she’ll think I’m trying to make it about me.” Richie looked back up at Eddie. “Also, I’m just scared.”

Eddie frowned. “Not that I have any clue about what a normal family dynamic is like, but being together as a family should mean letting each other know what’s important, right?”

“Yes, and you’re literally the most important thing in my life.” Richie said.

Eddie smiled.

“I mean it.” Richie said. “So I guess the answer to your questions is yes, I will be telling them. If you’re okay with it.”

“I’m behind you one hundred percent, Richie.” Eddie reminded him.

“Okay.” Richie squeezed Eddie’s hand.

“I’m kinda nervous too though, obviously.” Eddie laughed softly.

“They like you better than me. You’re fine.”

“They do fucking not.” Eddie glared over at Richie.

//

When Thanksgiving actually arrived, sun was streaming through the bare trees into the house. The pleasant glow was soft and calm, though Richie was feeling anything but that. He was definitely anxious about the day going well. He was also nervous about finding the right time to tell his parents that he and Eddie were together. Also, he had a lot to do. His mom had insisted on coming early to cook. Richie was trying to do everything in his power not to screw anything up. He wanted this to be nice. He didn’t want to get chided, but mostly, he didn’t want to give a reason for it. He wanted this to be nice for his parents too.

The lake house had sort of opened a door back up in Richie's relationship with his family. Richie talked to at least one of them on the phone once a week. There was more texting too. He appreciated that they checked on him. He took it as actual concern rather than being on the defense and assuming it was for malicious reasons. He was coming to realize that as hard as his mom was on him sometimes, she did care and she was making an effort. Even if it was annoying sometimes.

When his parents arrived, Richie went out to help them with their bags. Eddie got the door for them. 

First thing that Maggie asked when she stepped inside was, “Can we get in a hug this time, Eddie?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Eddie smiled.

Maggie hugged Eddie tightly. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. You look better.”

Richie felt a warm inside, but gave his mom a pointed look for the second part.

“Well, he does.” Maggie said.

“I feel better too.” Eddie said, either ignoring the comment or not minding it.

After Richie put his parent’s bags down and a few more hugs were exchanged, Richie and Maggie started working on the dinner together in the kitchen. Then about an hour later, Jessica, Madison and Ryan came. Richie broke away from the kitchen to give out more hugs. Madison wanted to help in the kitchen. Jessica said she would help too, but she really just sat at the island to observe. Madison was helpful though. She was also documenting things on Instagram like a true teenager. Richie semi-seriously took notes from her on that. Maybe his thirteen year old niece could be his social media manager.

Things were in their place. The warm buttery, herby smell of the turkey had filled the house. His dad and Eddie were lounging in the living room with a football game on. Richie was a little surprised at how much Eddie knew about football. He watched fondly as Eddie shouted a loud obscenity at the tv and Wentworth laughed. Eddie actually stood up to pace the floor, he was so annoyed with whatever was happening. Richie could tell when there was a touchdown, but that was about as far as his football knowledge went. Ryan was clearly about as interested as Richie. He was spread out on the floor playing on his Gameboy.

“I’m surprised you know your way around the kitchen so well, Richie.” Maggie admitted.

Richie beamed over at her.

Eddie was leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter. He'd gotten fed up with the game and walked away entirely. “Richie’s been a great in-home nurse and chef.” Eddie teased.

“But you’re well now, Eddie?” Maggie asked. “Richie told me that you went to your last doctor’s appointment for awhile.”

“Yes, I’m basically in the clear as long as nothing else goes wrong.” Eddie said.

“That’s great, Eddie. I’m really glad to hear that.” Maggie said. She put her hand on Eddie’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze before she went back to the stove. Eddie smiled.

They had normal conversations at dinner over the clink of silverware. Maggie complained about the neighbor’s cat coming into their yard and Ryan guiltily admitted to petting said cat when he was over. Maggie rolled her eyes and admitted that the cat was cute, she just didn’t like it chasing the birds from her feeder. They talked to the kids about school, Ryan hated it and Madison loved it. Jessica talked about work. A lot. But Wentowrth was encouraging the conversation. Richie said that he was tired of hearing about teeth and Jessica glared at him. Richie had never quite been so thankful for normal. He was sure that his mom felt the same way as he did for once.

“So Eddie, now that you’re all clear, are you heading back to New York?” Wentworth asked.

“No, I’m not.” Eddie started, hesitating with the next part. He glanced over at Richie, knowing it was a decent flow into the conversation of Eddie moving in with him. “New York isn’t really for me anymore.”

“You don’t have family in New York anymore? Is your mother still with us, Eddie?” Maggie asked.

“No. She died a long time ago.” Eddie said.

And opportunity slipping away.

“I’m sorry I asked.” Maggie said, lips in a thin line.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Tozier.” Eddie said. "Like I said, it was awhile ago."

“I don’t think your mother cared much for me.” Maggie said suddenly.

“Mom, Jesus Christ.” Richie said with a huff of disbelief.

"I'm just saying." Maggie said over her glass before she took a drink.

“She probably didn’t like that I had you calling and begging her for Eddie to stay late or stay over every other day.” Richie went on.

Maggie smiled a little. “Well, I didn’t mind it. Eddie's always welcome.”

“It was Richie she didn’t like.” Eddie shot Richie a teasing look.

“I don’t know _why_. I was an angel.” Richie interjected.

Wentworth snorted.

“It never stopped me from insisting on coming over.” Eddie smiled.

“Eddie spaghetti was always such a little rebel.” Richie cooed.

Eddie glared over at him. Richie shifted in his chair, closer to Eddie. He caught Eddie’s gaze, grinning at him. Eddie’s look had softened. It was encouraging. Eddie’s hand moved over to touch Richie’s arm.

“Eddie’s not going back to New York because he's moving in with me.” Richie said firmly.

There was a silence that settled over the room, aside from the quiet cheering of crowds coming from the football stadium on the TV. So much for normal conversation.

“Eddie and I are together. He’s my boyfriend.” Richie clarified.

“I thought that was pretty obvious when you brought him to the house.” Maggie said.

Richie’s eyes went wide.

“I told you!” Ryan said toward Madison.

“Shut _up_.” Madison said.

Jessica was smiling at Richie from her seat, a knowing kind of smile.

“What the fuck? Did _everyone_ know?” Richie asked.

“It _was_ pretty clear how much you two care about each other.” Wentworth said. “Maggie told me what you said to her and we sort of assumed …”

“But we weren’t together when we first came to get the key.” Eddie said, also in a little disbelief.

“Oh, is Eddie a comedian too?” Maggie asked.

Eddie’s mouth opened in surprise.

“We really weren’t! We hadn’t even said we _liked_ each other.” Richie insisted.

“You could’ve fooled us.” Wentworth said.

Maggie looked at Richie with something that didn’t have to be said for Richie to understand that she was happy for him.

Richie couldn’t believe it. His parents just assumed they were together. And Richie was dumb enough to have been questioning if Eddie had feelings for him in the first place. “Well anyway. Eddie’s going to move to LA with me and be my trophy husband.” Richie said without even _thinking_.

Eddie’s eyes widened impossibly larger, blush rising on his cheeks. Eddie had never thought about the idea that he could one day actually be Richie’s husband. _Richie’s husband_. Richie was having mirroring thoughts, except he was panicking about the use of the words. Richie was sure that considering the fact that Eddie wasn't even divorced would considerably effect his thoughts on being Richie's husband. It had been a joke of a statement, but the words were hitting just a little too hard.

Everyone was quiet.

“Oh shit. That was a joke - I mean - unless it’s not?” Richie attempted to cover it all with a laugh.

Eddie wasn’t laughing. He was sort of panicking, because it was too soon. Surely. But the idea of being Richie’s husband wasn’t off-putting at all. In fact, he was alarmed at the way that his stomach twisted with a familiar feeling: _longing_ . His heart felt warm and his head was spinning. “Maybe someday. For now I’m just the trophy _boyfriend_.” Eddie blurted out with a very startling laugh. “I’m - uh, not really a trophy boyfriend. I have a job.” Eddie clarified. “And I’m almost officially divorced.” Eddie added, awkwardly because he was still reeling over the fact that he could potentially marry Richie one day.

“Don’t worry, Eddie. I started dating before my divorce was final.” Jessica leaned in to say quietly to him.

“Also, we’re sharing a bed. Mom and Dad, you don’t have to go up the stairs. You can use the other room down here.” Richie said.

“I’m sure that’s the only reason why.” Wentworth said.

Eddie looked mortified.

“Wait, do you think your father and I are too old to go up the stairs?” Maggie asked.

“I dunno! Dad walks with a cane.” Richie said.

Maggie and Wentworth both laughed.

With that conversation behind them, Richie’s nerves had mostly worn off. 

Wentworth jokingly asked Madison if she had a boyfriend, and when Jessica tried to stop him because she did, in fact, have a boyfriend, it became a much bigger deal than Richie having a boyfriend. “I just make him carry my books. It’s no big deal.” Madison dismissed the conversation.

“Uncle Richie, when can I come and stay with you in California?” Ryan asked.

“Dude, whenever you _want_ to. I’ll get you a plane ticket.” Richie said.

“I’m coming as soon as you go back.” Ryan said.

“You know how busy Richie can be, buddy.” Jessica said.

“But he said whenever I want.”

“Maybe, just _maybe_ we’ll talk about spring break.”

“Hey, I call that a win.” Richie said, offering his nephew a high-five. Ryan took it.

.

Feeling content and full, Richie settled back on his pillow. He pulled his extra blanket up tight around his shoulders. “I think that went … pretty well.”

“The part where you called me a gold digger or the part where we ate a nice dinner?” Eddie asked on his side, hand under the blankets and tracing his fingers along that place he seemed so fond of between Richie’s pecs.

Richie laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant … I can’t wait to like show you off. Does that sound any better?”

“So I’m an object now?” Eddie asked.

Richie made an exasperated noise. “You know I don’t think that.”

Eddie was laughing softly by the time Richie started talking.

“Stop laughing at me!”

“Any other time you _want_ people to laugh at you.”

“I don’t want _you_ to.”

Eddie grinned. He moved closer to Richie, arm stretching across his chest to lean on him. A gentle hand went to Richie’s cheek. “That’s a blatant lie.”

Richie smiled, gaze lingering on Eddie’s. He was taking in the deep brown of his eyes, the lines on his face, the scar on his cheek. He was everything.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Eddie asked.

“Because I love you.”

“Weirdo.”

“You like it.” Richie giggled.

A smile stretched over Eddie’s features, showing his dimples. Especially on his right side. His smile was slightly-less-wide on the side that he had his scar. Richie had noticed, but he'd never said anything. “I like you.” Eddie said.

Richie grinned. He leaned in to kiss Eddie softly.

//

The day after Thanksgiving was quiet. The Toziers all left before noon, but only after Richie fixed a big breakfast. Eddie was pleasantly full, content with laying around on the couch and enjoying another day off of work. Imagine that. Eddie from before would have had a fit finding something to do all day. Richie picked something for them to watch. 

Later that afternoon, Eddie’s phone notified him that he got an email from his divorce lawyer. He got up from the couch, telling Richie he’d be back. Eddie opened his laptop, his makeshift office seeming almost lonely after the bustling Thanksgiving dinner that had just taken place there. His heart was in his throat. He felt like he might throw up. He opened his email, gaping at the first message. Eddie pulled up the document on his laptop. He stared at the screen for much longer than necessary, just taking in the moment, letting the fact that it had actually happened wash over him. 

**DIVORCE SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT**

Divorce Settlement Agreement was made on November 30, 2016 by and between:

MYRA JOY KASPBRAK, formerly SMITH & EDWARD FRANKLIN KASPBRAK

He was officially divorced.

“Holy shit.” Eddie murmured. He stood up, pacing back and forth in the room for a moment. He gripped the back of the chair, looking at the screen again, then slowly his face worked into a smile. There was no sign of guilt, just the relief. Just a feeling of freedom. 

After the feeling settled over him, he went back to the living room.

“Hey, Richie.”

“Hmm?”

“My divorce was finalized.”

Richie sat upright. “Wow. How you feeling?” He asked gently.

“Is it weird that I want to print it out and frame it?” Eddie asked.

Richie snorted. He stood up to meet Eddie with a hug. Eddie rested his head against Richie’s chest, arms stretched around Richie.

“It’s just … such a relief.”

“I’m glad.” Richie ran his hand through the back of Eddie’s hair. “I know you get off on documents anyway.”

Eddie laughed softly. He rubbed his face against Richie's chest, like a cat. Richie cupped the back of his neck.

“I know we haven’t talked much about the divorce and Myra.” Eddie said suddenly. Eddie pulled back so that he could look at Richie. “I guess I just didn’t want you tangled up in my mess.”

“Eds, I’ll get tangled up in any mess you need me to.” Richie said.

“I know, but it’s not fair to you.” Eddie said. “And I just needed to do it alone.”

“I understand. I’ve just been giving you your space when it came to that.” Richie smoothed his hands down Eddie’s back.

Eddie smiled at the motion. He held onto Richie’s arms, squeezing gently. His face fell a little as he started talking. “My therapist helped me figure out that … that my whole life I’ve thought that I was sick and that there was something wrong with me. I let Myra walk all over me because I thought I was already messed up, so I deserved it.”

“That’s fucked up.” Richie leaned forward to press a kiss against Eddie’s forehead.

“I know that now.” Eddie rubbed his hands on Richie’s arms. “Thank fuck for my therapist." He smiled a little. "And you know, when I actually got injured, it made me realize that I had never actually been sick or hurt before. Except when I broke my arm. Almost dying brought me back to the way that I felt when I was young. I remembered how fearless it made me feel to stand up to my mom, to tell her to fuck off so I could defeat It. I guess it all circled back around to how I felt that summer, when I was with you and the losers.”

Richie smiled. 

Eddie smiled back at him. “We’re going to be okay, Richie.”

“You think so?”

“I know we are. Richie, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“We should celebrate.” Eddie decided. “Let’s call everyone and tell them the good news.”

Eddie and Richie facetimed the rest of The Losers. Stan and Patty were in the car on their way to watch birds in the park ( - “Sandhill cranes migrate through Georgia in the winter.” Stan had said). Mike was at a restaurant on the patio in New Orleans, sunglasses on and looking very happy. Bill and Audra were at a wrap party for their movie, pleasantly buzzed already from champagne. Ben was at his house Nebraska, hunched over a sketchbook and looking happy to see them. Bev stepped out of her friend Kay's living room to the guest room she'd been staying in while she got her things straightened out. Everyone stopped what they were doing to talk for what turned into almost an hour. None of them spoiled the surprise for Richie that they would see each other in a month.

Later, Ashley and John joined Eddie and Richie for drinks, music, and leftover Thanksgiving food. Eddie bragged on Richie having a show in New York, which Richie tried to shrug off. John insisted that he was getting tickets for them. Richie was blushing, but also beaming. Eddie was practically chewing on his lips to keep from telling Richie that the losers were coming to.

In the low light of the living room, Eddie was feeling so content. He was buzzed and happy. He could tell that Richie was feeling the same way. He watched as Richie excitedly talked with John about music. He caught Ashley’s gaze and they giggled to themselves.

Eddie surprised John later with his car knowledge. Actually, Eddie was pretty sure he surprised Richie too. Eddie even went as far as admitting that he wanted to look into getting a motorcycle, something he hadn’t admitted out loud to anyone yet. Richie made a joke about revving his engine that everyone laughed at, even though Eddie was embarrassed.

“Is this what your comedy set is going to be like?” Eddie asked.

“Pretty much!” Richie grinned.

After eleven, Ashley and John excused themselves, John yawning and Ashley playfully calling him ‘lame’. Richie was still wide awake, drumming on the kitchen counter with two fingers. Eddie moved from his spot in the living room to join him. Low lights from the living room made a yellow glow in the kitchen, where Eddie was watching Richie perform a very dramatic version of ‘More Than A Feeling’. Eddie threw his head back, laughing loudly as Richie mimicked the sound of the guitar, all while doing air guitar.

When he got close to Eddie, gentle hands wrapped around Richie’s wrists. Eddie crowded in close, both of them laughing as Eddie kissed Richie softly. Richie put his arms around Eddie, pulling him close and swayed gently. Eddie laughed, cheeks bright pink. “I’m not really sure that this is an appropriate song to slow dance to, but … ” Richie shrugged a shoulder.

Eddie put his head against Richie’s shoulder. Arms draped over Richie’s shoulders, fingers playing with the back of his hair. He closed his eyes. He took in Richie’s smell, the feeling of being pressed close, the way Richie was swaying much more slowly than the song as it faded off to the next. If Eddie thought that he was obsessed with Richie before, it was becoming more and more of a problem. His thoughts are a near constant vortex, all spiraling around Richie’s hands, the spread of his shoulders (which Eddie’s hands had moved to squeeze gently), the sprinkle of hair on his chest, the handful of pecs that Eddie always wants to touch. He was so big and tall and handsome. So because he damn well could, hands slid down to touch Richie’s chest.

Eddie leaned up to kiss him. The kiss grew desperate, fingers curling into the front of Richie’s shirt. Richie’s hands were under Eddie’s shirt, palms hot against his skin. Richie backed Eddie into the counter. His big hands found Eddie’s hips and he gently lifted him onto the counter top. Richie slotted himself between Eddie’s legs, hands on the counter and pressing in close to kiss him more. Eddie groaned against his mouth.

“Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?” Richie asked, western voice in full effect.

“Oh my god.” Eddie pulled back to huff.

“Not happy to see me. Got it.” Richie grinned. His hands were on Eddie’s thighs, gripping tight.

Really, it’s like he’s discovering his dick all over again. He was, in fact, quite happy to have Richie pressed up against him. “It’s just that like … before you, I was pretty sure that I had erectile dysfunction and now my dick’s been hard every day since I could get blood flow back down there.”

“I'm that sexy?” Richie grinned.

“Shut up, Richie.” Eddie snapped back, but he tucked his head back against Richie’s shoulder and laughed. Eddie kissed his neck, biting down on the skin and making Richie groan. "I do think you're sexy." Eddie’s thighs tightened around Richie’s hips. Richie rocked his hips forward, making it apparent that he was hard in his jeans too. “Fuck - ” He kissed Richie’s jaw, then against his bottom lip. He nipped softly at it, making Richie groan _again_.

Eddie brushed fingers against the side of Richie’s face. He loved Richie so much, it was bubbling up inside of him and threatening to spill out if he didn’t do something about it. Eddie’s fingers brush his lips, and Richie’s tongue laps over his index and middle finger. Eddie pushed them against Richie’s tongue, past his parting lips. Richie’s tongue swirls around his fingers, tongue hot against his skin. “Richie - oh my god.” And Richie sucks on his fingers as he pulled off.

“What’s that, Eddie?” Richie asked.

“The things I want to do aren’t sanitary for a kitchen.” Eddie murmured.

“That’s the kind of dirty talk I like to hear.” Richie laughed as he spoke.

They moved across the house, both giddy and excited. Eddie landed a swat on Richie’s ass. The little surprised yelp was worth it. Richie turned around, crowding Eddie against the wall. He leaned in to kiss Eddie’s neck, then blew a raspberry against it. Eddie laughed, hands squeezing Richie’s arms. “Fuck you!”

Richie grinned. Eddie pulled Richie closer to him. He kissed Richie hard, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt and tugging him impossibly closer. Eddie hoisted a thigh up around Richie’s waist, then Richie’s gripping onto his ass like his life depended on it. He was pushing Eddie’s back hard against the wall. “Am I hurting your back?” Richie mumbled against his lips.

“No.” Eddie panted out. They’re kissing until they’re panting in each other’s mouths. Richie’s handful of his thigh makes him grind against Richie, so he could feel Eddie hard against his stomach. It’s almost too much. Eddie’s grip on his shoulder goes to his hair. “Bedroom for real.” Eddie hesitated to let go of Richie, but he did as Richie let him down.

Richie climbed onto the bed, then Eddie was following. He settled in Richie’s lap, hands on his shoulders. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Eddie pushed Richie’s glasses up into his hair. He kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. He was licking into Richie’s mouth, kissing so hard that their teeth clanked together. Eddie was taking Richie out of his button up, expertly without stopping the kiss. He only pulled away to pull his own shirt over his head. 

Hands on his hips squeezed and dipped past his waistband. Eddie took in a deep breath as goosebumps rose on the skin that Richie touched. They shed the rest of their clothes in a blur of nerves and need. Richie’s on top of Eddie, looking at him like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen. He can feel Richie’s dick drag down his skin as he rolls his hips, then pulls away, only so his mouth can trail along Eddie’s skin, down and down and down.

//

Richie’s hands are pushing Eddie’s shaking thighs apart. Richie feels crazy, like he can’t stop or he’ll actually die. He’ll die from blue balls. He kissed the inside of Eddie’s thigh, dragged his tongue along the skin, actually moaning at the taste of Eddie’s skin.

“Can I … can I - ?” Richie asked. “We don’t have to, but - ”

Richie looked past Eddie’s taut, heaving stomach, up to catch his gaze. Eddie looked disheveled, fucking beautiful. 

"Again, I don't know what I'm _doing._ " Eddie mumbled.

"You don't have to know anything for me to suck your dick." Richie said.

Eddie heaved in a breath and laughed softly. He put his hand in Richie's hair, fingers massaging his scalp gently. 

Richie felt so safe with Eddie. He wanted to be as honest as humanly possible, as open as he could let himself be. “I’ve never actually … done it. I mean, with a guy. I’ve never gone all the way with a guy.” Richie admitted.

“So you’ve never … with a guy?” Eddie asked.

“I mean, I've sucked dick before. It wasn't very romantic. But anyway, I'm just saying that I’ve never … gone all the way.”

“You’ve never had anal sex?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah.” Richie said.

“Okay." Eddie said. "Well … me either.” Eddie was grinning a little at that.

Richie laughed softly. He kissed the inside of Eddie's thigh again. “I want to. Whenever we’re both really ready.”

“Me too. Some time. Maybe soon, but I'm ... not ready for that today.”

"No, I wasn't - I was just - I wanted to tell you that." Richie clarified.

"While my dick is in your face?" Eddie asked.

Richie laughed softly again. "Uh huh." He nuzzled his cheek against Eddie's thigh a little. "We don't have to do anything else, but my mouth is awfully close to your dick and I want to."

Eddie licked over his lips. “I want - I want it.”

“Holy shit, I’m the luckiest guy on Earth.”

“Can you just shut up and getonwithit.” Eddie spits out.

Richie grinned up at him. He let out a heavy breath, hand wrapped around the base of Eddie’s cock, making him squirm a little. Richie swiped his tongue over the head. 

“Oh - oh - ” Eddie gripped the nape of his neck.

“You good?” Richie asked.

“Yes. Just not - not used to it.”

“Get used to it.” Richie murmured as he lowered his mouth onto Eddie.

Eddie’s body tensed. He let out a gasp like someone punched him in the gut and Richie lowered his mouth just to hear him do it again. On one hand, Richie was desperate to make this good. It’s been a long, long time since he’s even done this. He needs it to be good, needs Eddie to know he hasn’t just given up his old life to jump into something that they’re both half way terrified of for nothing. But on the other, he didn’t need to worry. If the way that Eddie arched into a thrust is any indicator. His cock bumped against the back of Richie’s throat. He might pass out, from pleasure or maybe even lack of oxygen. But let it be here if he has to go. He tried to bob his head slow, until Eddie’s moans get all high-pitched. He tugged hard on Richie’s hair and his scalp stung down to his groin as he ruts against the mattress. 

Richie had to pull back to breathe. “You good?”

Eddie laughed, a bark of a laugh, full of breath. "Yeah." The same kind of laugh he gives whenever he’s going along with something crazy that Richie’s said. He looks beautiful like that.

Richie put his mouth back on Eddie, tongue swirling around to taste him. Eddie is moaning low in his chest. Richie pulled off again.

“Will you cum in my mouth?” Richie asked.

“ _Fuck_.”

“I really want you to. Unless you don’t want to. If you don’t, it’s okay.”

Eddie’s hand kneaded his hair. “C’mere.”

Richie pushed himself up Eddie's body, until Eddie's cock was trapped under his stomach, leaving a sticky wet trail. Eddie smiled at him, looking a little mischievous as his fingers dragged against Richie's scalp, then urged him into a kiss. Eddie kissed him until Richie fucked his tongue into Eddie’s mouth and Eddie mewls on it. Richie was practically drooling into the kiss at the taste of Eddie’s skin between their mouths, hips rolling his cock against the soft skin of Eddie’s thigh.

“If - if you don’t think it’s gross, keep going.” Eddie mumbled.

“Fuck yes.” 

Richie's head is back between Eddie’s thighs in record time. He put his mouth back on Eddie, and it wasn't long before Eddie shouted out something like Richie’s name as he spilled down his throat. 

Eddie kissed him after, making Richie almost cum on the spot. Eddie's mouth trails down his skin, teeth biting down and sucking a bruise on his neck while he wraps his hand around Richie’s cock. 

“Oh, okay, that’s - ” Richie gasps.

“Good?” Eddie asked softly. 

"You don't have to." Richie mumbled.

"I want to." Eddie said, determined. The touch is almost enough to send Richie off, but Eddie strokes him quickly, knuckles brushing the hair on his stomach. Even his legs are throbbing, it’s so much. He couldn't take it anymore and came in overwhelming waves over Eddie’s hand. He panted against Eddie’s neck, hips jerking in the aftershocks of his orgasm. He flattened against Eddie, whining softly.

More time than Richie would have ever hoped for passed before Eddie is squirming under him. “Ew ew ew. Gross.” Eddie said finally. “Get up.”

“Fine. Ugh.” Richie shifts, but can’t bring himself to move further than enough for a little cold draft to blow between them. Eddie doesn’t push him any further away, just turns with him, gazing at him with those doe eyes. Richie felt like he melted into liquid and started swimming in them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep saying to myself "stop writing porn" but they deserve it tbh
> 
> One more chapter to go, and it's my longest yet.


	15. Richie, Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The New York trip doesn't quite go as planned, but the losers club reunites and that warms everyone's spirits.
> 
> warnings: panic attacks, vomiting, PTSD, alcoholism

_New York, I love you_   
_But you're bringing me down_

\- LCD Soundsystem

_Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?_   
_Can the child within my heart rise above?_   
_Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides?_   
_Can I handle the seasons of my life?_

\- Fleetwood Mac

* * *

During the car ride to New York, Eddie’s nerves weren’t exactly great. His therapist said that she would be available to talk any time, but Eddie was trying not to have to contact her. He wanted to have a normal trip. Richie’s music was helping. It turned out that Eddie mostly liked Richie’s music after all, even though when he was a kid he didn’t. Or maybe he just pretended not to like it so that they had something else to bicker about. The quiet chords of ‘Landslide’ were playing low through the speakers. Eddie glanced over to the passenger’s seat to catch Richie’s eye. Richie reached over to hold Eddie’s hand where it was resting on the middle compartment.

“Are you going to show me all your favorite spots in the city, baby?” Richie asked.

“I don’t have any.” Eddie said. “Unless my favorite deli counts. They have really good sandwiches. It’s down the block from my old office.”

“ _That’s_ no fun.”

“I’m not fun.”

“Yes you are!” Richie insisted. “But sandwiches are boring and once you’ve had a sandwich, you’ve had a sandwich.”

“Untrue.” Eddie shook his head. “This is a Polish deli. It’s authentic and clean. Fresh cold cuts, perogies, Polish meatloaf - ”

“Polish meatloaf. What the fuck is Polish meatloaf?” Eddie went into a detailed description of what exactly Polish meatloaf was, and looked defeated when Richie's response was, “You should’ve left it kielbasa. You know I’m into Polish sausage.”

“Shut up.” Eddie said, but was holding back a laugh.

“I can’t believe you aren’t gonna give me a tour of NYC.” Richie said, practically pouting.

“There is one place that you might like, but I’ve never been in it before." Eddie said thoughtfully. "It always seemed oddly familiar to me. Maybe it reminded me of you before I realized what I was being reminded of.”

“Oooh, romantic.”

Eddie grinned.

When he pulled onto the streets of the city, Eddie started feeling anxious. When he saw the tall skyscrapers, it felt like felt like they were closing in. It didn’t help that his hand was numb (probably just from driving but what if it was going to be numb forever). He was overwhelmed by the time that they checked in at the hotel, thinking about the last time he’d been in New York. Then he sort of went into full meltdown mode when he got to the room. He was pissed off at himself for it, which was making him even more worked up.

“I can’t fucking feel my hand, Richie. What if I would have wrecked the car because of my hand? Driving with one hand decreases reaction time by 44%.”

“But you didn’t wreck the car.” Richie pointed out.

“You deserve to be with someone that makes you feel safe.”

“You do make me feel safe, Mr. Risk Analyst.”

“What if I can’t use my hand anymore?” Eddie asked. “What if I have to get it chopped off?”

“Eddie, that’s not going to happen. Your hand just got tired from driving.”

“Fuck - I’m sorry. This is about you and I’m totally fucking up this trip.”

“One little, tiny Eddie meltdown is not going to fuck up the trip.” Richie stood up and gently put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He carefully guided Eddie to sit down on the edge of the bed. Eddie let him take his numb hand, giving it a gentle massage between two fingers. “Why don’t you let me give you a handjob?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Eddie was grinning as he said it though.

Richie laughed softly. “I gotcha, babe. You’re going to be fine.”

Once he was in a somewhat better mind space, Eddie called his therapist. Richie left the room to give him some privacy to talk with her. She talked Eddie the rest of the way down. 

.

Later that evening, Eddie was feeling much better. Richie and Eddie _did_ have sandwiches at the Polish deli down the street from Eddie’s old office. Richie even admitted that it was a damn good sandwich. They walked down the street afterward, and Richie complained about his hands being cold. Eddie figured it was so that Eddie might hold one of them. Which he did, and shoved their hands into his coat pocket. He could feel the ice cold tips of Richie’s fingers digging into his gloved hand. He grinned at Richie.

They arrived at a dingy looking record shop with stickers covering parts of the window. Richie told Eddie it was the coolest thing he had ever seen. It was cozy inside, low lit with brick walls. Eddie peaked over Richie’s shoulder as he thumbed through records. Together, they decided on several records to add to Richie’s collection. Though Richie got very excited about a particular David Bowie album they found.

The night had been something dreamy and romantic, huddling together in the cold. The Christmas lights in the city twinkled behind them as they walked from stop to stop. Once they got back to the hotel, they both struggled to fall asleep in a strange bed and ended up making out for a long time. Eddie thought that getting off in a hotel bed was gross, but ultimately did it anyway. 

//

The long night made for a late morning. The dark of the hotel curtains made it easier to sleep in. Richie wasn’t having a particularly restful sleep though. The nightmares were back. They were never really the same, or at least never started the same, but the flashes of light reminded him that he was just dreaming, that it was the deadlights and it wasn’t real. It always felt so real.

Richie woke with a start, sitting up in bed and gasping for air.

“Hey.” The sound of Eddie’s voice was comforting. A gentle hand found his arm.

“Fuck.” Richie drew his legs in close to his chest.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” Eddie moved his hand to Richie’s back. Then, Eddie was carding a hand through his hair, grounding and calming him. 

“Bad dream.” Richie murmured. He could feel Eddie shifting in the bed to sit up. He felt an arm wrap around his middle. Richie turned his head, leaning in to Eddie.

“They’re just dreams.” Eddie nuzzled into Richie a little. “C’mere.” Eddie gently urged Richie onto his side. Arms wrapped around Richie. One hand tucked against Richie’s chest. Eddie kissed Richie’s shoulder. “I've got you.”

Richie relaxed in Eddie’s hold. His chest felt warm and his eyes welled up with tears. He felt so safe and loved when he was with Eddie like this. It was overwhelming. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.” Richie could feel Eddie’s cheek resting against his back. “You wanna talk about it?” Eddie asked.

“Um. Not really.” Richie said.

“Okay.” Eddie said. Eddie was quiet for a pause. “Do you think this has to do with your show?”

“Probably.”

“You have nothing to be worried about.”

“Untrue.”

“You’re amazing and everyone’s going to see that.” Eddie said.

Richie felt the unease bubbling and threatening to overtake how warm and grateful he felt at Eddie’s sweet words. “What if they don’t though?”

“Then so what? At least you’re trying. Not everyone’s going to understand you, but I think that most people are going to respect the fact that you’re being more authentic.” Eddie nuzzled his face against Richie’s shoulder then pressed a kiss there.

“You might be right.”

“I know I’m right.”

Richie smiled. Eddie’s arms squeezed tight around him.

After a few more minutes of being held by Eddie, he headed to the bathroom to shower. He realized he was definitely starting this morning off as horrifically as possible when he felt his stomach lurch. He bent over the toilet and threw up. Stress vomiting.

“Hey - Richie? Are you okay?” Eddie asked, peeking into the bathroom. 

“Fucking amazing, clearly.” Richie took in a deep breath before heaving one more time.

“I’m right here with you. You’re okay.” Eddie put his hand on Richie’s back when he leaned back up. 

Richie nodded. Somehow, Eddie always knew the right things to say. His words were simple, but they worked. 

Richie stood upright and got into his overnight bag to brush his teeth. 

Once they were both awake and showered, Richie was a little less jittery. They went out for fresh bagels and they tried to distract themselves with some touristy things. Eddie admitted he had never done much while he lived there. The streets were crowded with tourists and with angry looking business men. Richie was having a hard time imagining Eddie as one of the bustling suits, clutching their briefcase and looking disgruntled at the tourists. Eddie was too good for the rat race.

Richie was actually surprised that Eddie had even wanted to come with him to New York, but his nerves seemed to be more at ease than Richie’s were as they craned their necks at Rockefeller Plaza, taking in all the skyscrapers and the world’s tallest Christmas Tree. 

“Selfie?” Richie asked.

“Fine.” Eddie grumbled.

It was very cute, Christmas tree in the background. They grinned into the camera, all wrapped up in scarves. Richie even went as far as posting it on the gram.

.

Suddenly, it was just a couple of hours before the show. Richie brought Eddie backstage with him, not quite ready to have Eddie leave his side, even as he did a sound check and went over things with the crew. Richie had done this before. So many times that he shouldn’t have been _like this_ , but it felt like he was finally sharing real parts of himself with the rest of the world, things that he had worked so hard to keep deep inside.

Once they were inside Richie's dressing room with a little bit of privacy, Eddie got closer and wrapped his arms around Richie. He moved to his tiptoes to rest his chin over Richie’s shoulder and give him a kiss on the cheek. He rested his cheek against Richie’s shoulder, smiling as he did. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m insisting you not be proud until after.” Richie said with a little nervous chuckle.

“Yeah, but I’m just proud of you in general.”

“Babe.” Richie turned around in Eddie’s grip. He put his arms on Eddie’s shoulders, leaned in to kiss him. He was interrupted by the door to the dressing room opening.

“Alright, Richie. You’ve got about half an hour.” Steve was bursting into the room looking down at his phone. “There’s a rumor that some guy from Pixar is looking for a comedian to do voice acting. I swear to God, if you don’t have one of your shitty voices in this routine … ” He looked up, cutting himself off. His brows rose high on his forehead when he saw Eddie.

"Steve this is Eddie." Richie said. "My boyfriend."

"Okay."

“Eddie, meet Steve.” Richie gestured toward his manager.

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” Eddie offered his hand. “You deserve some sort of award for managing this one.”

Steve took it, giving Eddie’s hand a firm shake. “You’re telling me.”

“Hey!” Richie made a face. “That's not very nice.”

“We’re teasing you.” Steve said, dismissing Richie’s words and looking back down toward his phone. “Anyway, not to add to the pressure at all, but you really gotta pull this one, Rich.”

“Gee, fucking thanks.” Richie said.

“I’ll let you do the pep talk. I’ll be right back.” Eddie interjected quietly before he excused himself from the room.

“Stevie, you scared my boyfriend.” Richie said.

“He didn’t seem scared. In fact, he scared me a little.” Steve said quickly, making Richie chuckle. Then he moved past it to keep on with the pep talk. “This is your comeback. Your big one in the big city. So break a leg, Rich. You really deserve this to go good. Don’t self-sabotage.” 

“Me? Self-sabotage?” Richie made a pfft noise.

“Walk and talk.” Steve said, hand on Richie’s shoulder and guiding him out of the dressing room and to the backstage area.

“Hey, my boyfriend’s coming back here - ” Richie said, looking back toward the room.

“You’re coming right back, I just want to go over where you’re going to head out on stage.”

“Steve, I’m gonna take it that it’s right past that curtain over there where I did my sound check.” Richie rolled his eyes a little. “I’ve already talked to the crew. It’s going to be okay.” Sometimes, Steve tended to get more nervous than Richie did. Most times, actually. Richie guessed that meant that he cared, so that was a good thing.

Richie started nervous-talking though, about logistics of being backstage, again as if he hadn’t done this 1,000 times. He was almost nervous-talking so much that he didn’t notice who was standing right in front of him as he rounded the corner back toward his dressing room. 

Eyes widened and Richie stopped talking mid-sentence. “Stan?”

“Hey, Richie.” Stan smiled.

Then Richie’s eyes fell on Patty, then darted over to fall on each of his friends - Bev, Ben, Mike, Bill, and even Audra was there. Richie swallowed thickly, forgetting his nerves and a familiar feeling of warmth in his chest replaced them. “Hi.”

“Hey, honey.” Bev said.

Richie started crying. He couldn’t help it. He reached up to wipe under his eyes with the back of his hand.

Stan slung his arm around Richie’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “Stop crying. You have to go on stage soon!” Stan said. Patty was leaning in and wiping away one of the stray tears on Richie’s cheek with her thumb, then she kissed Richie on the cheek.

“Okay, okay.” Richie murmured, sniffling.

“Love you, Rich!” Bev smiled as she wrapped her arm around him on the other side of Stan. 

“Fuck, I love you guys so much.” Richie squeezed both their sides.

Ben gave him a quick squeeze too before he followed Bev from backstage. Stan and Patty filed behind them.

“Good luck, Richie.” Mike said as he pulled him in for a hug. Bill’s hand clapped his shoulder and he was pulled into another hug from Bill when Mike let him go. 

“Break a leg!” Audra said waving at him as she disappeared around the corner with Bill.

Richie was nearly feeling overwhelmed. His heart was warm and full. His gaze met Eddie’s and he felt like his heart might explode out of his chest.

Eddie smiled at him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Richie cupped Eddie’s cheeks in both hands. He leaned in to kiss him gently.

Eddie disappeared with the rest of the losers.

“Who the hell were those people?” Steve said. “Was that Audra Phillips?”

“My family.” Richie said, still smiling.

.

When Richie walked out on stage, he felt good. His heart was beating fast, but he was beaming as he waved out at the crowd. His friends were there to see him. That was all that mattered to him.

The stage lights shone in his face, hot and blinding and Richie tensed. He could hear his heart beating in his ears now, loud and drowning out the sound of the crowd welcoming him. He froze, hair standing on the back of his neck and a cold sweat coming over him. He closed his eyes and could still see the round impression left from the light. Then there were three of them. He opened his eyes again, mouth open to let out a heavy breath and the stage lights were too fucking bright.

_What did you see in the deadlights, Richie?_

There were three bright white lights, flashing wildly. Richie had known somewhere in the back of his mind that he was levitating in the air. Floating. He had felt like his insides were leaving his body, that he was somewhere where there was no gravity. The pulse of the light, like lightning in the sky, like a spot light flashing in his face, like stage lights, illuminating the dark abyss.

The blinding white of the summer sun was on him and he shielded his eyes with his hand. It beat down the back of his neck as he crouched down. Birds were singing, their cries low and mournful. Richie thought that Stan might tell him that they were doves. Richie’s hand curls on the wooden railing. His other hand was curled around the handle of a pocket knife that his dad had reluctantly given him. Something about not using it for the wrong things, like carving initials into the rails of Kissing Bridge.

Each time he dug the knife in a little deeper and drug it, his brows knit tighter and his gut twisted.

_“Hey, Rich.”_

The sound of his name sounded like it was coming from underwater. Like his head dunked underwater at the quarry and he was so close to the surface he could hear it. Eddie’s hands were on his shoulders, pushing him under and laughing as he got the upper hand. Eddie squealed when Richie grabbed his ankle from under the surface and pulled.

“That is so not fucking funny.” Richie heard when his head was above the water again. Eddie was pushing hair away from his face, spitting water out of his mouth. “If I drown out here my mom’s gonna have a heart attack.”

“You dunked me first!” Richie exclaimed, hands flying up to splash Eddie.

“That’s because you splashed me, asshole!” Eddie splashed Richie back.

 _Splatter_.

Something splashed across his face.

“ _Richie…_ ”

The sound of his name was coming from somewhere far away again. It’s dark this time. Richie couldn't see because there was something coating his glasses in red. It’s hot on his skin. Smells like copper. Iron. Rot. His gaze searches beyond the red, and eyes land on a man with eyes, impossibly wide. Once he can focus past the splatter on his glasses, he can see that there’s something that’s pierced through Eddie’s chest. He was hanging limp like a puppet. Eddie opened his mouth. The same dark color leaking from between his lips as he opens his mouth.

“ _Wanna play lougee_?” 

Richie can hear his heartbeat in his ears. The boards under his feet in that old house on Neibolt were creaking as he runs, runs, runs to get anywhere else. To get to Eddie.

Eddie’s face was still with shock. Eyes were wide with real fear. Not the curious, wondering fear that sometimes filled up his eyes when they snuck into the theater to watch an R-rated horror film. It was real. Bill could say that it wasn’t real, but Eddie’s arm was really broken. The clawed hand coming from the clown’s body was really there. Richie’s shaking hands on Eddie were really there, as if he could do something to protect him. He desperately wanted to protect him. He touched Eddie’s face, urged him to look away.

“ _Richie, honey, he’s dead_.”

In the dark of the movie theatre, the music is building. Eddie has got a hold on Richie’s arm, shaking it gently. Richie peers over at Eddie's wide eyes, reflecting the light from the big screen. Richie beamed, heart pounding in his ears again. “Don’t tell me you’re _scared_ , Eds.”

“I’m not scared and don’t call me Eds. This movie’s stupid.” Eddie hissed.

“Sure.” Richie swallowed back a lump in his throat. He was tense, but that had nothing to do with the scene on the screen. He loved to go to the movies, even the scary ones, but he loved the distraction even more.

“I’m not scared! It’s not even realistic.” But Eddie jumped, fingers digging into Richie’s arm even more.

 _Scary_ . _Really Scary_ . _Not Scary At All_.

"He's fucking with us." Richie grabbed tightly onto Eddie's arm as they stood in front of three closed doors. He grabbed for the Not Scary At All. It was a closet, and a voice was coming out of it, but he pulled the light string and a kaleidoscope of color blurs his vision.

Richie was racing his bike as fast as he can. He was trying to beat Eddie, but Eddie was faster. Eddie always beat him at a bike race. Eddie was so fast on his bike. Eddie could outrun him in tag too. Eddie hurtled forward with the rocks in his hands, aiming and hitting Henry Bowers right in the temple. He could throw better than half the kids on the baseball team.

 _Crack_.

It’s the rock that cracked Bowers temple. It’s the drop of the axe on the back of Bower’s head. Blood splattered his glasses.

" _Richie wake up._ "

But he can see the white light from the sun again, nearly blinding until he brings up a hand up to shield his face. The sound is coming from across the field. The field behind him is full of wildflowers, bobbing gently in the breeze. A laugh rings out. The sound makes Richie’s heart keep beating in his ears. It’s swelling so big, he feels like it might burst out of his chest. His heart already felt too heavy in his chest. He couldn’t take much more. Eddie looked so _happy_ , for someone who was supposed to be allergic to flowers and grass and hay and animals, surrounded by all of the above. Richie didn’t even have it in him to make a joke. He just smiled, watching as Eddie ran his fingers through the soft sheep’s fur. Mike was telling them something about the sheep and he had Eddie’s full attention. Eddie had Richie’s.

His hand curls around the wood of the fence. A sharp splinter stings his palm and he jerks it back. “Fuck.”

Stan’s doves are cooing mournfully from the roof of the barn.

“ _Richie!_ ”

The sound is louder this time, but it’s like it’s coming from the dark corner of the clubhouse. His head jerked up from where he was focusing on his comic.

“Your ten minutes is up, asshole.”

And the next thing that Richie knows, Eddie was climbing into the hammock with him. Richie was glad that the light in the clubhouse is low, even though he’d just complained about not being able to see the page he was reading. His face was glowing bright red as Eddie’s legs tangled with his. They were arguing, and Richie couldn’t even remember the things he’d said. It was the same old things, the same old fronts, hiding the feeling that stirred deep in his gut every time that Eddie so much as brushed against his arm. That was the thing that he was always hoping for. And sometimes, when he got the attention he’d been fighting for, he didn’t know what to do with it all. Together, they laid in the hammock, safe and surrounded by their friends.

He would never understand how he had forgotten Eddie. He never forgot that feeling though.

When Richie saw Eddie standing there in the restaurant, his gut dropped and chest swelled with the undeniable feelings that were left unsaid when they were young. His first mission was to get drunk. His next mission was to make Eddie like him again.

“ _Richie_.”

Eddie’s hovering over him, talking fast. He’s always talking so fast. And then something pierces his chest with a harsh crackling sound. Screams fill the air. It almost happened in slow motion. The blood is a dark, deep red soaking into his vision.

“ _Hey, Rich. Wake up!_ ”

Richie really does wake up this time. He thinks. He was definitely not in the sewers, not in Pennywise’s lair, not in the clubhouse, not even gripping the handles of his bike. He was also no longer standing on the stage. He was lying down and thought that he must be backstage in his dressing room. There was a hand clasped onto his. His eyes landed on Eddie, alive and well. He looked worried though, eyes wide and mouth open a little.

“Eddie.” Richie said quietly.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked. He sank down onto his knees, closer to Richie. 

Richie sat up quickly, hands moving to Eddie’s face. “Eddie.”

Eddie put his arms around Richie, pulling him in to hold him. Hands rubbed Richie’s back as Richie buried his face against Eddie’s neck. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

After a moment of soaking in the feeling of being held by Eddie, reality sunk in around him. He pulled back. “My fucking show.” He detangled himself from Eddie and stood up.

“Richie - ” Eddie stood with him, steadying him.

“Oh my god, I fucked it up, didn’t I?” Richie asked. “I have to go out there and - ”

“You’re not going back out there. I called 911.” Steve said.

“ _Fuck_.” Richie spat, sitting back down and burying his face in his hands. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“You collapsed on stage. You need to go to the hospital.” Steve said. "Richie, are you on drugs again?"

"What?" Richie asked, furious. "No! Of course I'm not on drugs. Jesus."

But he could already see the headlines. _Richie Tozier collapses on stage, his first time seen in public since August._

.

Richie sat on the edge of a hospital bed, the doctor shining a light in his eyes. His leg was jiggling. The doctor asked him to stop doing that. He tried. They checked his vitals, his temperature, asked him questions, all the bases covered. Richie was 100% fine. Physically. He was discharged from the hospital that night. All of the losers were waiting in the lobby for him. Each of them were looking worried in their own way.

“Well this is fucking embarrassing.” Richie said to clarify that things were fine.

“Are you okay?” Bev asked.

“Yeah.” Richie said with a sigh. 

“What happened?” Stan asked.

Richie didn’t want to talk about it. He really didn’t want to, but with the pleading eyes of all his friends on him, he rolled his eyes and started talking. “The stage lights … they got in my eyes and it … it was like the deadlights.” Richie said quietly. He caught Bev’s gaze and she was looking at him knowingly. “I don’t know, I guess it was too much. I wasn't expecting it.”

“It’s okay not to be ready for things that used to be normal.” Mike said softly.

Richie nodded. “I’m sorry you guys came all the way out here for this.”

“It’s okay.” Ben said. “I really just wanted to see you guys again.”

“Me too.” Stan said.

“Well, here we are. In the fucking hospital again.” Richie said.

“At least everyone’s conscious this time.” Eddie said.

“Very true.” Mike said.

Bev had stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Richie. “Oh.” Richie said quietly, arms wrapping around her too. He felt Bill’s hand on his shoulder, Eddie’s arm tucked around his back, Stan hugging his and Bev’s side, Ben’s hand on his arm, Mike bringing it all in.

.

The night didn’t go the way that Richie pictured in his head at all. He had wanted to do an amazing job on his first night back on stage, celebrate in the hotel lobby with drinks on him, have someone come up to him and say, ‘ _Are you Richie Tozier? I just saw your show, it was great!_ ’ and Richie would take a picture with them, Eddie would be so proud of him, then they would go back to their room, pop a bottle of champagne and make out, maybe he would get to suck Eddie off again.

He wasn’t ready and maybe he never would be, at this rate. He was pissed off at himself. He was more upset when he and Eddie got back to their hotel room. It was too quiet. Eddie was being too careful with him, looking at him like he might collapse again or something. Richie wanted to die. He hated this. He knew that his friends said that it was okay, but was it really?

“Take a shower? You’ll feel better.” Eddie said softly. “I’ll turn it on for you.”

Yeah. Maybe that would help put him to sleep, anyway. He knew that if he opened up one of the liquor bottles at the minibar he’d really feel better. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” Richie said, eyes on Eddie’s back as he went into the bathroom. Richie touched the bottle on the minibar. He let out a heavy breath before he opened the cap and turned the bottle up to his lips. He gulped down a shot’s worth, maybe two, throat burning and fighting the urge to turn around and vomit. He cringed and turned the bottle up one more time.

He closed it back up before he went to the bathroom. He drank a cup of water quickly to wash down the taste.

Eddie’s eyes were on him. He could see him looking in the mirror. Richie turned around, brows drawn together. “Babe?” 

“Is it weird if I join you?” Eddie asked.

“No.” Richie said quietly. 

“Okay.” Eddie offered a soft smile before he got the rest of the way undressed and stepped into the shower.

Richie double rinsed his mouth with mouthwash before he took off his clothes to climb in with Eddie. He was anxious still, though the alcohol had helped take a little tiny edge off. He felt self-conscious as always. Those images of what he and Eddie always had were fresh in his mind though. It was bizarre how the sensation of being in the deadlights had both been comforting and horrifying at the same time. There was something still scary about being with Eddie. It wasn’t just that he could lose Eddie, it wasn’t death. It was his own internal self-loathing and how uncomfortable he felt accepting love.

But there was Eddie standing under the spray of water, alive and well and looking fucking incredible. Smooth expanses of tanned muscles. Arms, shoulders and face dusted with freckles that Richie couldn’t see without his glasses, but he knew they were there. The patches of hair on his chest, the trail of hair on his stomach down to his cock, where Richie had been actually allowed to _put his mouth_. Richie wasn’t sure how it was fair that he was allowed to be with Eddie. He wanted it so badly though. He had to keep trying.

“Hey.” Richie put his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Hi.” Eddie said. “I wanna take care of you, okay?”

“Okay.” Richie mumbled.

Richie let Eddie wash his hair, bending just a little to give him better access. Eddie’s fingers scrubbed his scalp and it seemed to soothe away some of the worries. He told Richie to rinse his hair. When he did, Eddie was lathering up a washcloth. Richie couldn’t believe that his little germ-freak Eddie was feeling so comfortable that he wanted to wash him. It was sweet. 

Eddie’s arms wrapped around him eventually, warm against him. He had stopped scrubbing and just touched him. His face was against the crook of Richie’s neck. They were pressed tight against each other, melting into each other. Richie dared slide his hands down to Eddie’s ass.

“Oh.” Eddie breathed out against his skin. He tilted his head back and Richie kissed him softly.

“We don’t have to do anything … I just like touching you.” Richie told him. Although he could feel that Eddie was hard against the crease of his leg. It made Richie’s heart jump and his own dick twitch.

“I’m sorry - I wasn’t trying to - it just happened.”

“Don’t apologize, baby.” Richie mumbled. He leaned down to kiss Eddie. “I want you like every second of the day.”

Eddie smiled.

They didn’t really end up doing anything other than holding each other, but it was nice. It didn’t have to be sex for it to be intimate, Richie quickly found.

//

On the way back to the lake house the next morning, Eddie drove, a little overly conscious of the snowflakes that were falling. They were just flurries, thankfully, but he was carrying extremely precious cargo. Richie was turned around in his seat, excitedly talking with Stan about the ducks that he liked so much back at the lake and how he hoped that they weren’t cold. Stan was explaining to Richie about duck migration patterns, then Richie pretended to fall asleep.

“You fucking asked!” Stan exclaimed.

“Not for a whole goddamn lesson on it. Jesus.” Richie crossed his arms.

Eddie smiled fondly to himself. He watched in his review mirror as Patty and Ben laughed softly. Bev was leaning into Ben, head on his shoulder. He glanced further back in his rearview, catching sight of Mike’s vehicle where Bill and Audra were passengers. 

Clearly, Eddie was also worried about what had happened to Richie the night before. Eddie held onto Richie most of the night. They were both up with worry through parts of the night. Richie never would tell him what he saw in the deadlights, but he could imagine that it must have been horrible to be triggered like that. Even if it wasn’t what he saw, it had to feel like being back in that moment.

After last night, Eddie wasn’t exactly having second thoughts, but he realized that his romanticized version of their relationship (all making out on the couch, constantly thinking about sex, going to the movies, dancing in the kitchen, looking out on the lake, the shared special smiles) wasn’t all that it was going to be. It was going to be hard.

Eddie’s life had changed so drastically over the last five months that he could hardly remember what it was like before. He knew there would be a wistful feeling when his friends left to get back to their lives, but they would see each other again. Being with Richie was going to be permanent. 

He glanced over at Richie, who was facing forward now, quiet and tapping his fingers against the car door. Sometimes, Eddie felt like he could read Richie’s mind, like he always knew what he was thinking, but right now, he felt like it was back to day one when Richie had a panic attack in his parents house over killing Bowers and Eddie hadn’t even thought about that bothering him.

And maybe Eddie needed to be more conscientious about the fact that Richie was going through shit too. Maybe he was being selfish through this whole thing, worrying about his own recovery, his own newfound self. But he had to take care of himself before he could take care of Richie. Honestly, he was feeling fairly good (New York meltdown aside), so maybe he could take better care of Richie now. It was important for them to be there for each other, because there wasn’t anyone else other than the losers who could begin to understand what they were really going through. Even Eddie’s therapist only got half of it.

He reached over to take Richie’s hand.

It wasn't always going to be easy, but being loved by Richie was worth it. Richie was worth it. 

.

Everyone settled into their rooms at the lakehouse. The inside felt warm and homey, much like it had when Richie’s family had joined them just a month before for Thanksgiving, but somehow better. Eddie was overwhelmed with the love that he had for them all. He had no nerves or apprehension about what the rest of the week was going to be like. Eddie was happy to be himself in front of his friends. He had never felt so comfortable around people as he did around them. He had no fear about telling them the truth about who he was. He had no fear about talking to much or not enough.

He hoped that Richie was feeling the same way.

That evening, he slotted himself on the couch between Bill and Bev, then Bev linked her arm with his.

Richie said he was cooking dinner and Eddie could tell that he was offended when almost everyone questioned it. Richie did finally allowed Patty, Mike and Ben in the kitchen with him, but was accepting no other help or critique. It seemed like they were having fun in there before long.

“Have you seen your movie yet, Bill?” Eddie asked.

“Not yet.” Bill said. “There’s a lot of production still, special effects, all that.”

“Cool.” Eddie said. “I’m trying to give horror movies a chance, but I’ve had enough real life experience with that so … ”

Bill laughed softly. “It’s more of a psychological thriller.”

“What the fuck is the difference?” Richie asked from where he was leaning in the island in the kitchen.

“There’s a difference.” Bill said.

“Huge difference.” Audra said, rolling her eyes playfully.

Bill shot her a playful look.

"I'm sure it's really great." Bev said.

The nine of them were sitting around the table soon, conversation flowing easily with little pockets of conversation and loud exclamations across the table. It wasn’t until there was a quiet pause that Mike spoke up, “So were you just not going to tell the rest of us about you two finally getting together, or did we miss the Losers Club memo?” Mike asked, looking at Eddie and then Richie.

Bill snorted into his drink.

“Sorry.” Richie said dryly. “It’s not like I’ve been slowly working my way out of the closet over the past five months or anything.” 

“Besides, it wasn’t like all of you didn’t tell each other.” Eddie said. 

“Like the time that Bill got a girlfriend in ninth grade and was trying to stay all hushed up about it for whatever reason.” Richie rolled his eyes. “Mike told me, I told Eddie, Eddie told Stan.”

“Did she have red hair too?” Audra asked.

Bill cleared his throat and the rest of the table tried to work out whether or not they should laugh.

“Oh come on, it’s funny.” Audra said.

“Anyway - I wasn’t aware that there needed to be a public service announcement about Richie and I’s relationship status.” Eddie said.

“Then why did you call us all on facetime to announce you were divorced?” Stan asked.

Eddie sent dagger glares toward him.

“I didn’t tell anyone.” Bev said. “Except Ben.”

“And me.” Bill said.

“It’s a given that I told Patty, but I also told Mike and Bill.” Stan said with a shrug.

“Wow.” Richie said. “So I was right.”

“Yes.” And it looked like it pained Stan to say so.

“Well, just so everyone knows, Richie and I are officially together.” Eddie said.

"Eddie is moving to LA with me." Richie was grinning.

“Good for you guys though.” Mike said.

“Cheers.” Stan said, and they clinked their glasses.

//

The Losers had made themselves right at home, and it made Richie feel incredible. Although Richie had noticed there was something a little off in the way that Bev and Ben looked at each other during dinner, especially the cheers to he and Eddie being together. Richie was determined to do some after dinner investigating. It was easier to get with Ben anyway, who was quietly observing the whole get together. Richie decided to start with asking Ben about the house, how he decided what to do for it, all that stuff that Richie only half understood. It was really nice seeing Ben’s face light up when he got to talk about the things he designed though.

They walked outside together to look at parts of the house after dinner, wrapped up in coats despite being warm from alcohol consumption. Ben was as good at drinking as Richie was, maybe better. Richie’s hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, murmuring about hating gloves. Ben was wearing gloves so he could still hold his beer.

“Are you doing okay?” Richie asked him softly during a pause in the conversation.

Ben shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah. I mean, considering trying to fathom that my whole life I’ve been missing something and it’s finally snapped in place, but I still can’t get it quite right.”

“Trust me, man. I think we’re all going through that.” Richie said.

“I know. That’s why I … haven’t said anything.”

“You can always talk to any of us. To me.” Richie said. “I don’t seem like the best listener, but I can be.”

“I know.” Ben said, offering a smile.

“ _Well_.” Richie prompted.

“Richie, you just clearly went through something yourself. I don’t want to - ”

“Come on, man.” Richie interrupted him. “It is what it is. Don’t treat me like I’m any different. We’re all going through something. Talk about it if you need to. I won’t mention it to anyone else. Not even Eddie.”

Ben hesitated. “Okay. Okay.” He let out a heavy breath. “Everything was going well with Bev and I, until we tried to get back to our normal lives.” Ben said. “We still want to be together, we talked a lot about that part before she went back to New York. We still talk pretty much every day. But yeah. It was disappointing to realize we weren’t enough to fix each other’s problems right away. I guess we have separate issues that we need to work on.” Ben said with a sigh. "I love her so much. I was hanging onto that yearbook page for years, man. I was desperate not to forget her. I just want her to be happy."

Richie didn’t want to make the conversation about himself, so he drew his lips back in a thin line as he worried about that happening once he got back to LA with Eddie. The difference maybe was that Eddie had already been working on himself in ways that didn’t involve Richie, with therapy and time to himself. Everyone’s relationships were different too.

“We’ve all been through too much to just wake up one day and feel like it’s been fixed, you know?” Richie said.

"Yeah, I guess that's fair. I just thought ... we'd already been through enough." Ben said.

"It's hard when you care about someone and see them struggling so much." Richie said, knowing that Ben was thinking about Bev, not about himself.

"Has it been hard for you and Eddie?" Ben asked.

"Yeah, dude. I know this seems like the perfect setting for a romance to bud and bloom, but it's not been without it's bumps in the road." Richie knew that overall, it had worked out well, but clearly ... Richie clearly had a lot of shit he still needed to work through. He was still struggling with opening up. Maybe if he had, that wouldn't have happened last night. And fuck, even if he had talked about it more, maybe it still would have. Who's to say.

"Are _you_ okay?" Ben asked seriously.

“Obviously last night was a fucking disaster. I have nightmares all the time. I have all these fucked up self esteem issues. I’ve possibly moved right on over from being a drug addict to an alcoholic. Don’t mention that I said _that_ , please.”

Ben shook his head. “It’s between us.” He promised. “Aside from that, I think I’ve been doing more than a little self medicating with the booze.”

“Man, we’re all fucked.” Richie said.

“No.” Ben’s gaze was back toward the house, looking through the large glass windows into the low lit living room. Inside Audra, Patty, and Mike were on the couch, where Patty and Mike were laughing together. Stan was sitting on the floor between Patty’s legs. He pulled her hand down to kiss the back of it. Bill was in a chair he’d pulled up next to the couch, hand linked with Audra’s on the arm of the couch. Bev and Eddie were curled up on the loveseat. They were looking down at one of their phones, giggling because Eddie’s dimples were showing. “No, we’re going to be okay.” Ben finished with a smile.

Richie smiled too, putting his arm around Ben. “You really think so?”

“I know it.” Ben said.

Richie watched the scene inside for a moment longer, thinking that maybe Ben was right.

“I think it’s important for us not to withdraw from each other. That’s when it’s easiest for us to get messed up. It always has been.” Ben said. “Being with you guys again reminded me of that. I had been feeling really lonely again."

Richie nodded. “Yeah.” And Richie makes that mental note to check on Ben more often. “Hey man, I know what it’s like to go down a not so great road on your own. Don’t hesitate to call me. Literally any time.”

“Okay.” Ben said quietly.

“And you should come visit too. LA isn’t for everyone, but like, I’ve got a pool and shit. You can hang out at the house.”

“Thanks, Richie.” Ben smiled. “Come on, let’s go inside before your LA fingers freeze off.” Ben said with a chuckle.

Once they were inside, like a normal person, Ben grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to Bill.

Richie piled himself in the loveseat with Bev and Eddie, making them both laugh. He put his cold hands on each other their cheeks, making Eddie yell at him and Bev slap his hand away from her.

.

The smell of the cookies that Patty had put in the oven was in the air. There was a warmth in the room radiated around them. The light from the kitchen was making everyone’s faces glow golden-yellow. Cheeks were red from wine and eggnog. Laughter rang out over the buzz of conversation. Richie couldn’t stop smiling. He couldn’t help but laugh every time that Bill laughed, grin every time that Bev said something, giggled to himself when Stan said something that was so Stanley. Although he felt much more full with their memories having returned to him, there was nothing that compared with being in the room with the people that he loved so much.

Eddie looked across the room at Richie, heart warm when they exchanged a smile. He got up from his spot, moving to sit on the floor between Richie’s legs. He felt secure, safe, and impossibly cared for in a way that made his heart full, in a way that made him feel important, in a way that made him feel strong. They were going to spend the rest of their lives wrapped up in each other. They would learn how to accept everything about themselves, have someone to lean on when it got hard. The hollowed out lonely feeling would be full of love. _Goodbye New England winters, and hello LA heat_ , Richie couldn’t help thinking.

When Eddie leaned his head back to look up at Richie, he leaned down to kiss him, sloppy and sweet from upside down. Eddie could feel him smiling into the kiss.

Richie had hope. That was a lot more than he could say for himself from before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming on this journey with me! I started writing this in February, and finally on the weekend of the 1 year anniversary of Ch2, I was able to finish this.
> 
> Let me know what you think of the rocky ending.

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist for this fic on [ spotify ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/13HVRqRTiRuJpFAUY3d71k?si=qukjiPGKTWuLXmwak4u0nw) or on [ apple music ](https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/you-can-still-be-what-you-want-to/pl.u-xlyNBq3sp2MNZj)


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